Souvenir
by CanonAntithesis
Summary: Sequel to "It Felt Like Home". There was a souvenir, after all. Yet another real reason for why Admiral Janeway came back to save Voyager.
1. Chapter 1

Souvenir

Endgame Redux

A Star Trek: Voyager fanfiction

by

CanonAntithesis

Summary: Sequel to "It Felt Like Home". Please read it first; otherwise, this won't make much sense. There was a souvenir, after all. Yet another real reason for why Admiral Janeway came back to save Voyager.

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended. This fanfiction is based upon the UPN television series Star Trek: Voyager. All characters and situations other than my own are the sole property of Paramount.

Prologue

"I've come to bring Voyager home."

Admiral Janeway came blasting out of the future to change her own past and the results of her actions would have long reaching consequences for all.

Chapter 1

"Fresh coffee...," Admiral Janeway practically purred as she preceded Captain Janeway into her ready room. "Do you mind?" She walked over and picked up a cup, turning to the captain before she started to pour.

Kathryn had to admit, if only to herself, that she'd held many conversations with herself over the past seven years, but this was taking it a little overboard.

"No, go ahead." Kathryn knew not to walk too close to the pungent aroma of her favorite beverage. Instead, she proceeded to the observation window while the admiral poured herself a cup.

Chell must have left the carafe and cups there for her. Neelix was more observant. She hadn't been able to stomach coffee for over two weeks now. Neelix would have realized that her tastes had changed. Crewman Chell, in his bid to take over as ship's Chief Cook and Bottle Washer, had been going to extremes of late to try to impress her.

Admiral Janeway lifted the cup to her nose before taking a sip. "Hmmm. This is the real thing, isn't it? Not one of Neelix's 'even-better-than-coffee' substitutes."

"I wouldn't know," Kathryn replied cooly.

"Oh, that's right," intoned the admiral smoothly, "I had forgotten." The older woman contemplated her younger counterpart while sipping the warm beverage.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kathryn waited for her to elaborate, but instead the admiral completely changed the subject.

"All right, then. Let's talk about the past." She placed her cup on the coffee table and joined Kathryn on the upper level. "Three days ago, you detected elevated neutrino emissions in a nebula in grid 986. You thought it might be a way home. You were right." She leaned on the railing and looked down at the captain. "I've come to tell you to take Voyager back to that nebula."

"It was crawling with Borg," Kathryn replied incredulously.

"I've brought technology that'll get us past them."

Kathryn rolled her eyes at that outrageous statement.

"Oh, I don't blame you for being skeptical," the admiral continued, "but if you can't trust yourself, who can you trust?"

"For the sake of argument, let's say I believe everything you're telling me. The future you come from sounds pretty good. Voyager's home, I'm an admiral, there are ways to defend against the Borg."

"So, why would you want to tamper with such a rosy timeline?" the admiral asked the question she knew the captain wanted to ask. "To answer that I'd have to tell you more than you want to know, but suffice it to say, if you don't do what I'm suggesting it's going to take you another sixteen years to get this ship home, and there are going to be casualties along the way." She paused and allowed the hint of a smile to grace her lips. "I know exactly what you're thinking."

"You've also become a telepath?"

"I used to be you, remember? You're asking yourself, is she really who she says she is, or is this some sort of deception? For all you know, I could be a member of Species 8472 in disguise."

The older version of Kathryn Janeway sat down on the sofa, stretching her arms out as if she hadn't a care in the world.

"Have your people examine my shuttle. Tell them to take a close look at the weapons systems and the armor technology. In the meantime, the Doctor can confirm my identity."

####

"My scans indicate the two of you are genetically identical. However, the methylation patterns have changed which suggests a change in her diet or environment. From these data I believe she has lived on earth for at least the past ten years." He then turned to the captain with a smug smile on his face. "Congratulations, Captain. You made it home. Furthermore, I have been able to determine, using the ratio of Carbon-14 to Carbon-12 in her bones, that the admiral is you, approximately twenty-six years from now."

The doctor showed Captain Janeway a side-by-side comparison of the two women's DNA on the monitor. Their nucleotide sequences were identical.

The admiral sat on a biobed closest to the sickbay doors. Therefore, she was the first to notice when they opened and a handsome, youthful Tom Paris entered the room. Admiral Janeway was taken aback at his resemblance to …

"Hello, Tom." The older woman couldn't hide the longing in her voice.

####

Voyager's chief flight controller was dumbstruck and only managed a slight nod in the admiral's direction.

Tom had been on the bridge when the admiral's shuttle arrived, but he hadn't been prepared for seeing her in person. He also wasn't prepared for how she was looking at him. He thought he and the captain had finally managed to put Quarra behind them. In fact, they had been completely ignoring each other for almost two months now. He had been so wrapped up in B'Elanna's false labor scares that he thought he was finally moving on.

However, the way she looked at him made him feel decidedly uncomfortable. Her gaze was more reminiscent of loss than desire. It was as if she hadn't seen him in a long time, as if he didn't exist anymore in her timeline. It was unsettling.

####

Captain Janeway and the doctor joined them and Tom turned away from the Admiral to deliver his report directly to the captain.

"The technology aboard the Admiral's ship is really sexy," Tom told her.

Realizing how inappropriate his word choice was, Tom quickly looked down at his PADD, which allowed him to concentrate on the technical information he needed to convey and not to stare at either of the Kathryn Janeways in front of him.

He continued, "Much of it appears to have been designed to defend against the Borg."

Ignoring Tom's colorful language, Janeway asked, "Could we install these systems on Voyager?"

"The stealth technology is incompatible, but Seven and I believe we can adapt the armor and weapons."

"Well, Captain?" Admiral Janeway was barely containing a smirk.

The captain looked directly at Tom, ignoring her older self. "Do it."

####

With newly installed ablative armor and transphasic torpedoes from the future, Voyager blasted into the Borg nebula with the intention of going home. What they found, had Captain Janeway overriding the admiral's orders.

They found a Borg transwarp hub. This hub connected to thousands of exit points in all four quadrants. Captain Janeway decided it wouldn't be honorable to just escape back home when she felt they had a chance to deal some real damage to their most powerful enemy.

"I want to know why you didn't tell me about the existence of that hub before we went in there."

The admiral didn't intimidate easily. She casually strolled to the ready room sofa before answering.

"Because I remember how stubborn and self-righteous I used to be. I figured you might try to do something stupid."

"We have an opportunity to deal a crippling blow to the Borg. It could save millions of lives." Kathryn's passion shone through in her voice.

The admiral's voice, in comparison, was hard and biting. "Seven years ago, when you stranded this ship in the Delta Quadrant, you chose to put the lives of strangers ahead of the lives of your crew. You can't make the same mistake again."

"You got Voyager home, which means I will too. If it takes a few more years then that's…"

"The birth of your son will rip this crew apart."

Kathryn's hand automatically came to rest on her belly as her mind focused on only one of the items the admiral had just revealed. This mass of cells within her would be her son. A boy with crystal blue eyes and ...

She quickly removed her hand before asking indignantly, "What are you talking about?" Kathryn was trying to sound as sanctimonious as she could muster.

"Kathryn, please. We've already established that we are the same person. I'm not from an alternate timeline or a mirror universe. I know you're pregnant; you know you're pregnant; and the Doctor knows. I believe that about covers it at this point, am I right? So, let's not pretend, not here, not between the two of us. It's absurd."

Kathryn stood up taller before replying a little sadly, "Well, I won't be for long. I have an appointment with the Doctor tomorrow morning. I've decided to terminate."

The admiral seemed unfazed. "I noticed how you avoided the coffee when we first met. That was one of the most difficult parts of that first trimester." She chuckled to herself. "I could handle throwing up every morning, but it was the betrayal of my favorite beverage that nearly did me in. But don't worry, the nausea will pass in a few weeks."

The younger Janeway returned her hand to her stomach to quell the sudden return of said nausea. Just the mention of coffee seemed to be affecting her. She had already been sick twice this morning before her shift. She didn't need this … affliction … to cause her to neglect her duties.

"Didn't you hear me?" Captain Janeway said in her best command voice, but she wasn't able to sustain it. "I'm not going to have this baby. I … can't," Kathryn's voice cracked slightly at the admission. "I can't be a mother and the captain at the same time." Kathryn joined the admiral on the lower level and walked right up to her. It was very gratifying to be able to face someone eye to eye. She felt like she spent most of her life looking up.

The admiral seemed unaffected by the captain's pronouncement. "But you will, Kathryn. And he will be a beautiful little boy, wild blonde hair that sticks out in all directions and bright blue eyes that shine like a supernova." The older woman's eye seemed to glaze over slightly as if she picturing him in her mind. "Curious like his mother; adventurous like his father..."

"Stop it!" Kathryn sounded stressed and emotional. "Stop telling me things that haven't happened yet." Then, realizing what she said, she amended, "That aren't going to happen. And besides," she paused dramatically, "how could this baby's birth rip the ship apart, as you claim? How could we be held responsible for what happened when we didn't even know who we were? We thought we were different people on that planet."

Admiral Janeway was the polar opposite of Kathryn. She was unperturbed and collected when she noted, "I'm sure you'll agree that Voyager's crew is the finest in Starfleet."

This non sequitur caught Kathryn completely off guard and she wasn't sure if she was expected to respond or not. "Of course they are," she mumbled.

"Then I'm sure you will agree that they all, to the person, have a rudimentary understanding of human biology."

"What are you talking about?" Was she really going to turn into this vague old woman?

"It's been four months since you were rescued from Quarra."

Even now, after 26 years, the admiral couldn't hide the disdain from her voice when she said the word, rescued. There was still a small part of her that longed for those carefree days on that faraway planet.

Admiral Janeway continued, "You're still in your first trimester now, Kathryn. They'll all know that your son isn't the result of a 50 week pregnancy. They'll all be able to determine immediately that he wasn't conceived on an alien planet where no one could remember their own identities … that he was actually conceived here on Voyager when everyone knew exactly who they really were."

"Oh, God…"

TBC

Author's Notes:

Wow, I haven't published anything in three years. In fact I wasn't sure I remembered how to even upload a file, but here we go. I started this a long time ago and I'm hoping that uploading it will spur me into finishing it.

Reviews make me write faster.

And here's how it starts, the next segment of the saga of Tom and Kathryn.

FYI… I calculated the stardates between the end of Workforce and the beginning of Endgame using one of those handy-dandy online stardate calculators. It was approximately 4 months.

Gosh, is this thing sappy or what?

Please review and tell me how you feel about it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Souvenir**

 **Endgame Redux**

 _ **A Star Trek: Voyager fanfiction**_

 **by**

 **CanonAntithesis**

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

 **Chapter 2**

 _ **Approximately six weeks earlier…**_

Kathryn Janeway sat at a desk in the desolate quarters of an unknown crewmember. She propped her elbow on the clean surface with her chin resting on the palm of her hand as she stared pensively at a partially completed model of Voyager encased in a glass bottle. The model Voyager was missing her starboard nacelle. In her other hand, Janeway idly toyed with the missing piece, flipping it over and over between her fingers.

 _Captain's Log, supplemental. We've retrieved Friendship One and resumed our course to the Alpha Quadrant, but the success of our mission had a very high price._

And so ended Voyager's first official mission in seven years.

Friendship One was a deep space probe launched by Earth soon after First Contact with the Vulcans in the 21st century. Earth was excited to reach out to other species. The probe landed on the planet Uxal to a people not expert enough to handle the technology held within it. By the time Voyager tracked the missing probe to the unassuming planet, Uxal had been decimated and living under a nuclear winter for centuries. They blamed the people who sent the probe. They blamed Voyager.

The ensuing struggle with the planet's inhabitants turned tragic for Lieutenant Joseph Carey. Joe Carey had been with her from the beginning, even though she had long since stopped distinguishing between Starfleet and Maquis crewmembers.

While attempting to retrieve the probe, Carey, along with Tom and Neelix, was captured by the Uxali and held for ransom by their planet's de facto leader, Verin. He blamed Earth for the devastation of their planet and insisted that Voyager relocate the entire population to a safer planet.

Friendship One was launched at a time in Earth's history before anyone had an inkling of the importance of the Prime Directive. The information contained in the probe gave the Uxali the technology for antimatter power years before they had the expertise to manage that knowledge. As a result, antimatter was accidentally released, causing a global nuclear winter and making the planet's atmosphere unlivable.

When Janeway hesitated in agreeing to Verin's demands, he murdered Joe Carey under the pretense of returning one hostage as a show of good faith. Eventually, they were able to rescue the rest of the landing party and even set the planet on the road to recovery.

Carey's senseless death came as a huge blow to Kathryn personally. Some days it felt like she was taking one step forward and two steps back. That's why she decided to visit Carey's quarters, to try to find some light at the end of this galactic sized tunnel. Ever since she made the decision to destroy the Caretaker's array, she's been responsible for each and every death under her command. And there have been far too many deaths.

The doors swooshed open and in strolled Tom Paris. He came to halt when he saw her sitting at the table, obviously not expecting to find her there.

Twisting her neck toward him, Janeway smiled wanly and motioned for him to join her.

"Sorry, Captain. I didn't realize you'd be here. I just wanted to … y'know, come by. Sort of to privately pay my respects."

"I didn't realize you were close friends with Lieutenant Carey." This was the first time they had been alone in a room together since the night she brought him the artifact from Quarra.

"Actually, we've become much closer over the last two years or so." Realizing that she was awaiting more of an explanation, he continued, "Y'see, Joe worked with B'Elanna everyday for nearly seven years. In fact, even after we married, there were still many days when he saw more of her than I did. He had unique insights in how to handle her personality."

"I suppose he did," the captain nodded in agreement. "After all, she only broke his nose once in all of those seven years," she added wryly.

They shared a genuine smile as they each remembered their rocky start as one blended crew when they first landed in the Delta Quadrant. Lieutenant Joseph Carey, the acting chief engineer, lost a battle of wills to rebellious Maquis B'Elanna Torres. As with most arguments involving B'Elanna, this one ended in violence. She broke his nose in three places and narrowly missed causing him brain damage. Needless to say, their relationship improved greatly over the years.

"Yeah," Tom walked closer and sat down in the chair next to Janeway's. "I think that's why I found myself here tonight. It's become second nature to have a talk with Joe after one of our…"

"You've had a fight with B'Elanna?" Janeway asked with disbelief in her voice.

He could have easily died on that planet instead of Joe Carey. If she was B'Elanna, she would take Tom in her arms and … Janeway inhaled deeply, realizing that such fantasies were pointless.

"Yeah, she … well, she sort of blamed me for Joe's death … in a roundabout way. See, B'Elanna wanted to be on that Away Team with us."

"What?" Janeway interrupted. "Is she insane? She's six months pregnant!"

Tom's eyes lit up at her remark. "That's what _I_ said. Obviously, she did finally agree with me, but then she was totally pissed off that Joe died. She said if she had been there, she would have been able to stop it."

"How? By getting herself … and the baby … killed?"

"That's what I said too. Then, she just completely lost it and I had to get out." He was still trying to abide by the Doctor's orders to not cause B'Elanna any undue stress.

There was an awkward moment of silence before Tom looked more closely at the ship in the bottle and commented, "Impressive, isn't it?"

She nodded in agreement. "The detail's amazing."

"Joe spent months working on it. He used to joke he wouldn't be finished by the time we got back to Earth."

Janeway stared at the starboard nacelle still in her hands. Her voice was subdued when she sadly repeated her official log entry to Tom, "We successfully carried out our first Starfleet mission in seven years, but at what cost?"

Tom couldn't help himself; he reached over and took hold of Kathryn's hand, the one holding the missing nacelle. "Kathryn…" He paused for a second because it had been so long since he'd called her by her first name and he had forgotten how good that name felt on his tongue. "You've spent seven years beating yourself up over every exploration, every first contact, every battle and all of it leading back to that first decision to destroy the Caretaker's array. But just think, if we hadn't been here to retrieve Friendship One, we would have never been able to save those people…"

Even after Carey's death and the rescue of the remaining hostages, Janeway had still worked with Seven-of-Nine and found a way to restore the planet's atmosphere.

"But Joe Carey would still be alive," Kathryn pointed out the obvious.

"Stop doing that to yourself! Stop blaming yourself for everything that's wrong with the universe."

"You know what the worst part of it was?" she asked, ignoring his admonishment.

"What?" He snapped at her, sure that he was going to hear more self flagellation.

"I felt relieved. That's right, relieved," she reiterated when she saw the surprised look on Tom's face. "The first emotion I felt upon hearing the Doctor pronounce Carey dead … was profound relief. I wasn't sad, or grief stricken, or even angry. I was relieved ... that it wasn't you lying dead in sickbay." He hadn't been expecting this and the expression on his face must have shown it. She held up her hand to stop him from speaking. "Let me finish. When I was on the bridge in communication with Verin, we all heard a weapon being discharged and then you called out just before the comm line was severed. For those long excruciating seconds, I was sure you had been the one who was shot. I think I might have called out to you, right in the middle of the bridge."

"It happened so fast. Verin took us all by surprise."

She nodded. "So the question of the day is: Does that make me a horrible captain or just a horrible person?"

Tom reached over and pulled both of her hands to his and raised them to his lips. Why was he denying them this? Didn't this woman, of all the people in the universe, deserve to be happy?

"Neither. It makes you human."

All the strong emotions and feelings of love she had been suppressing since returning from Quarra came bursting forth from her the moment his lips touched her fingers. She pulled one shaking hand free and brought it to his face, caressing his stubbled chin with the back of her hand. As her fingers neared his mouth, he stilled her hand and hungrily sucked her fingers into his mouth.

Then, he quickly stood and drew her up with him. His lips trailed fevered kisses across her temple as he murmured into her hair, "You are brilliant, beautiful…"

God, he'd forgotten how wonderfully she smelled, how she tasted.

Kathryn pulled back slightly, trying to put some distance between them, but he wouldn't let her go. Instead, he moved his lips down to the sweet spot on her pale, elegant neck.

"Tom," she tried to remain logical even though her senses were quickly succumbing to his ministrations. "This isn't right."

"I don't care." His voice was husky and full of need.

He started to remove her uniform jacket and despite her verbal protestations, she offered no resistance and even helped him by shrugging off the heavy garment.

He reached up and started to unzip her turtleneck, but paused and leaned his forehead against hers, his breath coming in heavy pants.

"Tell me you don't want this and I'll stop right now and walk away. But you have to be the one to tell me to stop."

"Don't … stop."

 **####**

Hours later, Kathryn quietly slipped out of Carey's quarters, leaving Tom still asleep in the Joe Carey's bed. She made a solemn vow to herself to stay as far away from Tom Paris as was physically possible on such a small starship.

Until this point, she had always considered herself to be a woman of high personal integrity and morals. However, that was before she had had sex in a dead man's bed with her married conn officer. It would just be more items to add to her long list of personal sins. If Kathryn Janeway believed in an afterlife, she would surely spend it burning in hell.

 **TBC**

 **Author's Notes:**

Okay, it took me awhile to find a catalyst that would draw our two back together. I wanted it to be somewhat based on canon. I decided that Joe Carey's death was a pretty devastating event. I remember that I was really surprised when I saw that episode originally. Even though he wasn't in every episode, he was definitely a mainstay in the cast. In the past, they had only killed off crewmembers who we didn't really know (so called Red Shirts) or who were created to die, as was the case with Lon Suder in season two.

I also noticed Janeway's outcry on the bridge when Tom called out after he witnessed Carey being murdered. She obviously thought it was Tom who was injured with that weapons fire. That fit perfectly.

And the final scene with Janeway and Chakotay in Carey's quarters discussing his ship in a bottle just seemed really contrived. I know Chakotay was more in tune with the crew than Janeway, but to know so much about his model building hobby just seemed a little too convenient.

Sorry if it offends anyone that they get it on in the dead man's room, but it had to happen somewhere. And at least it wasn't explicit.


	3. Chapter 3

**Souvenir**

 **Endgame Redux**

 _ **A Star Trek: Voyager fanfiction**_

 **by**

 **CanonAntithesis**

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

 **Chapter 3**

"O Captain! My Captain."

"Walt Whitman? At a time like this, Doctor?"

The Doctor's voice joined with Admiral Janeway's and drifted to Kathryn through a hazy fog. She managed to open her eyes to find the doctor staring at her, not with concern on his holographic face as one might expect, but with a ready lecture on his lips.

"Good, you're coherent. When was the last time you ate?" His words held a sharp bite to them.

"Wha...?" She mumbled as she tried to sit up. That was a bad idea; her head started swimming and she quickly lay back down. Wait. _Down_? When had she gotten _down_?

That's when she noticed the admiral hovering behind the EMH. At least she looked concerned, if only slightly.

"You fainted," she said in a flat tone. "I commed the Doctor and he beamed directly to your ready room. There's no need for the entire crew to know… at least not yet, right?"

Janeway slowly rose to a sitting position and quickly realized she was on her small sofa. After hearing that old bitch's catty words, there was no way she was going to just lie there.

The doctor quickly ran his medical tricorder in front of her face. She swatted at it as if it was an annoying insect.

"Get that thing out of my face," she groused. "I'm fine."

The EMH ignored her and continued to run the scan. "You're not fine, Captain. You fainted because your blood sugar is low. It's still low. So, once again, when was the last time you ate? And coffee doesn't count." He added quickly.

"Oh, no worries there, Doctor," Admiral Janeway answered for her. "Coffee isn't agreeing with her right now. Isn't that right, Kathryn?" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Janeway swallowed down the gathering bile in her throat. She would _not_ throw up in front of this bossy old woman.

"I would like to speak to the Doctor. Alone," Kathryn said with more confidence than she felt.

The older woman gave one of her infamous crooked smiles. "You're kicking me out, Kathryn?"

Kathryn didn't respond and the admiral nodded slightly and retreated to the door. "I'll just wait out here, then."

As soon as the doors shut, the captain turned back to the EMH, but she wasn't fast enough before he asked his question again.

"When did you last eat? I'm very serious about this, Captain. It's not good for you, especially in your current condition."

Her mouth formed into a grim line as she gritted out, "I don't remember the last time I ate. And that's not why I wanted her to leave."

The Doctor ignored her and pulled out a hypospray, quickly pressing it to Kathryn's neck.

"There. That will bring up your blood sugar and help with the nausea, but you still need to eat something."

She started to blast forward with her question when she suddenly realized how much better she felt. "Thank you, Doctor. I actually feel better now and _promise_ I'll eat something."

"Good. Now let's try not to repeat this anytime soon."

"I'll … try," she promised honestly. "Now, I have a serious question about the admiral. From your scans when she came aboard, could you tell if she'd ever given birth?"

The EMH paused and took an unnecessary breath before replying. "Due to patient confidentiality, I normally wouldn't be allowed to tell you. But considering that you are, essentially, the same person…"

"Doctor…" She was losing her patience with him.

"I can say she was pregnant, and had significant prenatal care. I detected minute levels of IgM anti-Rh antibody in her bloodstream. Your blood type is O negative, yes?"

"You're the doctor here, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am and thank you for noticing" the Doctor preened, "and yes you are, to answer my own question. Since the _father's_ blood type is B positive, there is the potential that the baby's blood type could be Rh positive."

"Doctor, the baby's father isn't in my medical record, correct?" Janeway warned dangerously.

"Of course not. That information is encrypted in my remote matrix and is never uploaded to the network. You have my word on that."

"Thank you." She lightly touched his sleeve to emphasize her gratitude.

"You're very welcome. It's not my job to pass judgement on my patients, just to keep them healthy. Anyway, standard prenatal care for Rh negative women includes injection with RhIgM at thirty-six weeks to prevent the formation of IgG anti-Rh—the variety that will cross the placenta and cause hemolytic disease of the fetus and newborn. The Admiral was, at the very least, gravida one at some point in her life."

Kathryn vaguely remembered from a half forgotten biology class at the Academy that people who didn't have the Rh antigen on their red blood cells could form an Rh antibody if they were exposed to Rh positive blood, either through transfusion or pregnancy. The first pregnancy would cause the body to create the antibody, and the second pregnancy would cause the body to react to the fetus' cells if they were Rh positive, treating the baby like a virus that needed to be fought off. This antibody could cross the placenta and destroy the baby's red blood cells. In order to prevent this from happening, pre-formed antibodies were given to trick the mother's body into thinking it had already formed them. This new antibody couldn't cross the placenta, and would not attack the fetus.

"However," he was quick to add, "I can't possibly tell if it's from this pregnancy …" his eyes darted quickly down to Janeway's abdomen and back up, "or from sometime in the future."

"Doctor," Kathryn stated dryly, "I'm 46 years old. I seriously doubt I will have another chance at motherhood after this."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I see." He dropped his voice an octave in an effort to sound more serious. "Does that mean you wish to cancel your appointment, Captain? You've already postponed it four times."

"No," she said quickly and then, immediately reversed herself. "I mean yes. Yes. Postpone it again. But don't cancel it … at least for now. There's too much going on." She realized she was starting to babble, so she stopped talking.

"Did she indicate that she had had more children?"

"What? No, of course not. But she did tell me she had this baby," she placed her hand on her still flat abdomen and silently cursed herself for referring to a lump of cells as a baby. "I didn't believe her."

"Well, as I say, I can't tell for certain and if that's all…"

"Of course, Doctor." Kathryn hit her commbadge and called for the admiral to return.

The gray-haired Kathryn walked straight to the Doctor and placed her hand on his shoulder in a reassuring gesture. After all, she had known him longer than me, Kathryn supposed.

"Don't worry, Doctor," she said in a soothing manner. "I'll see to it she eats something. Now if you'll excuse us…"

The Doctor appeared shocked that he was being so summarily dismissed and looked to the captain for confirmation.

"It's alright, Doctor. I feel better and _I_ promise I will eat something." Kathryn did feel better and she definitely appreciated the anti-nausea meds.

"Okay, then. I'll leave you to your … conversation."

With that, he started towards the door before the admiral called out to him.

"Doctor … discretion, remember?"

He nodded in agreement. "Of course." The EMH reached up and tapped his combadge, dematerializing in an instant.

Kathryn had been watching the Doctor and had not realized that the admiral had moved across to the replicator until she heard a tray of food materialize. The admiral sat the tray down on the coffee table in front of Kathryn.

"There. Tomato soup, soda crackers and hot tea."

Kathryn wrinkled her nose at the admiral. "I don't like tomato soup, not to mention … tea." She couldn't control the sneer that came to her lips.

"Well, _that_ baby loves tomato soup. In fact, it's his favorite, so you should learn to like it." The admiral sat down next to her on the sofa as if they were old friends.

With a sigh, Kathryn leaned forward and picked up the spoon. After a couple of bites, she had to admit that it tasted much better than she would have imagined.

"Good," Admiral Janeway said with self-satisfaction when Kathryn finished the soup. "Now that this drama is over, you need to agree with me and let's get this ship back home."

"Oh, for the love of… Just because you are me, that doesn't mean I have to agree with you. You are a bitter, old, lonely woman and I refuse to believe I'll ever become you. I don't care if you outrank me or not; you can't order me or guilt me into obeying you."

Completely ignoring Kathryn's tirade, the admiral continued, "When Eddie is six years old, he'll almost die while on shore leave. Luckily, his father will save him."

"Eddie?" Kathryn blanched at the name.

"That's right. You named him after Daddy. You wanted to name him after someone else, but it didn't seem prudent … at the time." She let this sentence hang without further explanation.

"I don't want to hear anymore. Besides, life is inherently dangerous. And you did say that Tom saved him." She immediately sucked in air, trying to pull back the words she had just uttered. Of course, they both knew who the father of her baby was, but this was the first time either of them had actually named him aloud.

"He did, but at a great cost. It was a beautiful Class-M planet with perfect weather and for once, Voyager wasn't running low on supplies. Tom decided to take both of his children down for a picnic."

Admiral Janeway saw the question on the captain's lips and pre-empted her.

"Everyone knew Tom was the father. It was incredibly obvious. Some people suspected Chakotay, but there was no way that tow-headed, blue eyed boy was Chakotay's. And besides, by then, Chakotay was completely devoted to Seven."

"Seven and Chakotay?" Kathryn was shocked. "When will that happen?"

The admiral smirked at her younger self. "You're so self-absorbed right now that you can't see what's right in front of your face. It's already started, Kathryn. They're dating right now.

"Now, stop interrupting me. Tom took Miral," at Kathryn's questioning look, the admiral sighed dramatically and added, "B'Elanna's daughter, and Eddie to the planet. While they're there a once-in-a-century earthquake occurred without warning, collapsing the land beneath them. The children fell and landed on adjacent ledges while Tom somehow managed to stay on solid ground. He had to decide which of his children to save first."

Admiral Janeway paused and raised her eyebrow while she watched the younger woman's reaction. She wasn't disappointed.

The captain paled starkly and the admiral knew what she was remembering.

"That's right, Kathryn. Just like you."

The older woman was referring to the single most tragic event in Kathryn's life. The admiral had seen worse, but was trying valiantly for this younger version of herself to never have to experience them.

When Kathryn was an ensign, she worked with her father, Admiral Edward Janeway, and her first fiance, Justin Tighe, on her father's proudest accomplishment, the prototype shuttle craft, Terra Nova. With Justin piloting and Kathryn and Admiral Janeway aboard, they took a test flight to the Tau Ceti system and crashed onto the planet Tau Ceti Prime. Kathryn was somehow thrown free of the ship, along with some of the ship's transporter equipment. The rest of the ship was slowly sinking into an icy sea. She managed to activate the small transporter, but she quickly realized that she didn't have enough power to transport both of them out of the ship. Due to her inability to decide on which one to save, she lost both of the most important men in her life. The ship sank and both men died.

The admiral continued, "Tom chose Eddie. Later, he said he thought he would have time to save both and since Eddie was smaller, Tom grabbed him first. He was wrong. The ledge that held Miral collapsed and she fell to her death. She was only six-and-a-half years old."

"If I know what's going to happen I can avoid it."

The admiral shook her head with a pitying gesture.

"Are you willing to take that chance, Kathryn?" the admiral's voice was hard. "Miral's death caused a cascade of events that ripped Voyager's family apart. Even though in his heart, he knew it wasn't Eddie's fault, Tom started to treat him differently and eventually, he began to blame him. Can you imagine what it was like to be that little boy? B'Elanna always hated him, but now so did his own father. Tom didn't do it on purpose; he didn't set out to destroy Eddie's life, but that was the result. And with it, he destroyed his own. The grief from the loss of your child is something you can never recover from."

Kathryn thought there was a hidden message in her words, but chose to say nothing. Had Eddie died too? She didn't want to know. She didn't think she wanted to know anymore of the admiral's horrible future.

For her part, the admiral paused to gauge the effect her words were having. She decided to proceed with one final future consequence - the one that would surely convince her - her trump card.

"And then, of course, there's Tuvok."

"What about him?" In spite of previous declaration, she needed to know the fate of her oldest friend.

"Tuvok is in the early stages of a neurological disease. He's already experiencing lapses of concentration, but he would never tell you something so personal. There's a cure in the Alpha Quadrant, but if he doesn't get it in time he'll become a shell of the Tuvok you know."

Captain Janeway walked over to the large viewport and deflated. Her shoulders slumped and she dropped her head into her hands.

The admiral allowed herself a small smile of victory, certain that she had won.

The captain straightened and squared her shoulders before turning to face her older self.

"I'm still not convinced. How can you tell me that saving the lives of this one crew is more important than landing a crippling blow to the Borg and saving countless other innocents?"

 **####**

He was sitting alone in the mess hall playing with an old Earth deck of playing cards. Harry may have wanted to master Kal-toh, but Tom found it just as challenging building a house of cards. B'Elanna was being moody … again. Of course at this late stage of pregnancy, he couldn't blame her. He also didn't want to be around her although the quilt of that impulse of that weighed heavy on his heart. And since she didn't particularly want him there anyway, he had left her alone.

"Tom…"

Her voice was a whisper in his ear as she laid a reassuring hand on Tom's shoulder. He had missed her touch. Kathryn Janeway was a very tactile person and over the years, she frequently placed her hand right where it was now, reassuring him during some of Voyager's most harrowing adventures. All that changed, however, when they returned from Quarra. She hadn't spoken to him or touched him outside of duty hours for so long that he had forgotten how sultry her voice could sound or how gentle her touch could feel. Sometimes he thought their time together after Joe Carey died was just a dream, a fantasy. She certainly never acknowledged it.

Clutching tightly to a three of Diamonds, Tom stopped his hand millimeters from his tower of cards.

"Captain…" He turned to look at her and was shocked to see the wrong Janeway standing next to him. No wonder her voice had sounded more gravelly than usual. He jumped to attention.

"Admiral! Sorry, ma'am. I thought you were … someone else."

"Yes… I imagine you did," she said smoothly as she sat down in the seat next to Tom's. "Please, sit down, Tom. We need to talk."

"Okay…" Tom said hesitantly as he sat.

"I'm not one to mince words, so I'll get right to it. Six years from now, Miral Paris is going to die."

Tom sucked in a sharp breath. Only last week, he and B'Elanna finally decided to name the baby after B'Elanna's mother, Miral. They hadn't told a soul.

"What?" His voice was thick with emotion.

"She'll die on a seemingly safe planet because _you_ make the wrong choice."

"W-what choice? What planet? If you tell me, I can stop it from happening." He took her by her shoulders and drew her in close, his eyes fever bright with panic.

"I've already told you too much. What I need you to do now is tell her that destroying the hub is too risky; the cost is too high."

"You can't come in here, turn my world upside down and then just stop!" Tom screamed at the older woman and shook her with more force than he realized. "You have one hell of a nerve, lady. You have to tell me what's going to happen!"

Tom Paris was born into Starfleet. His grandfather, his uncle, and his own father had careers in the service. Owen Paris, his father, was an admiral and even though he and his father had their differences, he still had respect for the office ... if not the man himself. Given this background, he would never openly scream at a Vice Admiral, particularly one named Kathryn Janeway. However, she just told him that his daughter, who wasn't even born yet, was going to die because of him and he wanted to know why.

"I can't do that," she snapped and batted his arms away.

"Why not, if it will save an innocent life?"

The admiral drew herself up to her full height, not at all intimidated by Tom's rant.

"Don't you understand! My plan will save everyone's life … right here, right now! You won't need to worry about this, Tom." She placed her hand flat on his chest. "Just go talk to Kathryn. She'll listen to you." She paused and Tom could tell from the pain in her eyes that this conversation was costing her greatly. "She still loves you, Tom. She never stopped and … neither did I."

 **TBC**

 **Author's Note:**

The maple tree has been tapped and the sap flowth freely.


	4. Chapter 4

**Souvenir**

 **Endgame Redux**

 _ **A Star Trek: Voyager fanfiction**_

 **by**

 **CanonAntithesis**

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

 **Chapter 4**

 _The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few._

Tuvok's words echoed through Kathryn's head as she thought back over her conversation with her oldest friend. She couldn't believe she hadn't realized he was having problems. She also hadn't noticed Chakotay and Seven's growing relationship.

Staring out at the stars streaking by, she realized the Admiral was right. She was too wrapped up in her own problems to see what was happening to her own crew.

What other secrets was she not noticing?

Kathryn looked down at her own hand and saw that, once again, it had drifted to her flat belly seemingly of its own accord. How many times in the past week had this happened?

A sudden heaviness hit Kathryn and she abruptly collapsed down into her favorite chair, the one where she had enjoyed many hours of reading her antique paper novels.

There was at least one more secret hidden from Kathryn. It was the one she was keeping from herself.

With that autonomous hand still protectively positioned on her abdomen, her brain suddenly realized something which her body had already decided upon.

She would keep the baby.

However, further planning and thinking was interrupted by the sound of her door chime. Thinking it was the Admiral, but hoping it wasn't, she bade her visitor enter. She wasn't sure she could handle anymore drama from her older self.

Tom Paris stormed through the doors as soon as they opened wide enough to allow him entry. Striding right up to the captain, he stopped only inches from her face, so close that she could clearly see the tiny stress lines at the corners of his mouth.

Despite the naked look of fear in his eyes or maybe because of it, Kathryn had an overwhelming desire to take him in her arms and hold him.

"Tom? What's happened?" Her previous concerns about the crew ran through her head. Was there something going on in Tom's life of which she was not aware?

"The admiral told me everything."

A deathly paleness spread over Kathryn's face and nausea curdled in her stomach. She couldn't believe the admiral would betray her like this. Kathryn used the anger she felt for Admiral Janeway to bolster the confidence she wasn't actually feeling.

"She had no right," Janeway spat. Even though she had decided to keep the baby, she hadn't decided how or when to tell Tom. There was simply too much happening in both of their lives to deal with that right now.

"Then it's true."

Kathryn turned from him without replying and walked towards the large windows which comprised the entire outer wall of her quarters. With her back to Tom, she was hoping to buy a few seconds to gather her thoughts. It didn't work.

Tom boldly laid a hand on her shoulder and spun the captain around to face him.

"You owe me an answer!" Rage etched on his face, conflicting with the raw desperation in his voice.

"You are out of line, Lieutenant!" Now, her command voice was back with a vengeance.

"Please, you can't let her die." The pain in Tom's voice was heartbreaking. "The admiral said she could save us and my daughter wouldn't have to die. Please, Kathryn, please don't let her die. Don't do this to her, please, she's my daughter."

"Miral…" The name was a whisper on her lips. "This is about Miral?" She relaxed infinitesimally with the knowledge that the admiral must not have told him everything, but only the part of their future which concerned little Miral.

"You knew and you still won't go back?" The words fell ragged from his lips.

"Tom…", she pleaded as she reached out and took his hands in hers. "We can save millions of lives by destroying that hub. If we run away and save ourselves, we'd be betraying one of Starfleet's founding principles. How could we live with ourselves, knowing that we could have dealt a crushing blow to the Borg, but chose to only save ourselves instead?"

"But we're talking about saving the people we know, the people we love, versus some strangers that we will never meet. We're talking about my daughter."

"Tom, you don't understand. I can't…"

"For me, Kathryn. Do this for me. Do this for what we once had. Please. If I ever meant anything to you, please." Tears welled unashamedly in his eyes as he pleaded with her with all his heart.

Janeway slowly shook her head from side to side and started to explain again why she couldn't trade her principles for an old admiral's crazy ideas. However, before she could utter a word, Tom jerked back from her and out of her grasp.

"Why am I trying to reason with the almighty Captain Janeway? You aren't Kathryn anymore. I'm not sure you ever were." Tom's voice was full of hate and venom. "You can't imagine what it's like to be a parent … to love someone more than you love life itself."

Tears came unbidden to her eyes too and she ached to tell him that she did understand. That she was also carrying his child and she already loved this baby beyond reason.

He stormed to the door, but stopped and turned back to her just as the automatic door sensors opened. "The admiral told me you still loved me. She lied."

With that, Tom fled through the open doors.

All the reserves of strength from which Kathryn had been drawing suddenly dried up and she broke down onto the sofa in a heap. She sagged and pressed her hand over her eyes, hoping that if she didn't acknowledge it, she could pretend she wasn't crying.

 **####**

Captain Janeway straightened her uniform jacket and swept an errant piece of hair away from her face. She reached out her finger to press for entry into the VIP quarters. With irritation, she realized her hand was shaking and she quickly clasped both hands behind her back as she waited.

After five hours of tossing and turning in bed, she had gotten up and redressed. This conversation couldn't wait until morning.

The admiral was still cinching her robe as the doors slid open. She didn't look surprised to see her visitor.

The captain had been staring at the deck, trying to decide how to start this conversation ... with herself. She looked up and met the older woman's eyes and inhaled deeply, readying herself.

"Hell, Kathryn. You look like crap! Come in, come in. Do you have any idea what time it is?" The admiral draped an arm over Kathryn's shoulder and ushered her into the room.

Each sentence ran into the next as the admiral turned away from the younger Janeway and walked to the replicator. She stopped and looked back at the captain before giving the computer her order.

"Would the smell of coffee bother you?"

The combination of fatigue and surprise in Kathryn's eyes caused the admiral to answer her own question.

"Right." Turning back to the replicator, she commanded, "Two cups of herbal tea, sweetened."

After they had settled themselves and Admiral Janeway had made sure Kathryn had taken a small sip of tea, she finally broached the reason the captain was visiting her at such an ungodly hour.

"I take it that Tom spoke to you."

"Yes and can I just say that your little _subterfuge_ with him was unconscionable."

The admiral huffed. "Subterfuge? I'd hardly called it that. I want to win, Kathryn, because I know it's the best thing for this ship. So yes, I'll pull every kind of dirty trick to make that happen. You think you wouldn't?"

The older woman stopped and studied her counterpart for a moment.

"And judging by the fact that you're here and you look absolutely horrible, I'd say it might be working."

Kathryn sighed deeply and sank back into the sofa's cushions. She spoke very slowly, thinking through her words carefully.

"Is there anyway, whatsoever, that we could accomplish both of our goals? Destroy the hub _and_ get Voyager home?"

"I knew I would never be able to talk you out of something you'd set your mind to. But Tom … that's a different story. He really got to you, didn't he?"

"Just answer the question." Kathryn's voice was sharp, tinged with fatigue.

The admiral sat down her teacup and rose, standing before the large observation window and staring into the distance, so very, very far from home. Sometimes, it felt like she had spent most of her life doing this.

"There may be a way. I … considered it once, but it seemed too risky."

Kathryn jumped to her feet. Her eyes alit with possibilities and her tiredness forgotten.

"What is it?"

 **####**

Admiral Janeway was already seated in her shuttle when Kathryn entered with a pensive look on her face.

"It's about time. I'm not getting any younger, you know," the admiral said in an effort to lighten the mood. "You aren't either."

Kathryn didn't comment as she sat down in the co-pilot seat across from the admiral. She held up a hypospray.

"You're sure you want to do this?"

"No…" Admiral Janeway responded wryly, "but Voyager isn't big enough for both of us. There's only one captain's stateroom and I don't feel like sharing a bathroom with you"

The older woman tilted her neck to the side and allowed Kathryn to inject her with a neurolytic pathogen that would deal a crippling blow to the Borg.

"Good luck, Admiral."

"I don't need luck."

Kathryn turned to leave, but the admiral caught her sleeve.

"There's just one more thing I'll ask of you. I promise."

"Yes?" Kathryn responded seriously.

"Quit denying that you want this baby. I postponed my appointment with the Doctor time and time again too until he finally cancelled the damn thing himself."

Captain Janeway nodded her agreement through watery eyes. She had already decided that for herself, but the admiral didn't need to know that.

The admiral continued, "You go home to your family, Kathryn, … to Mama and Phoebe. Let Mama know her grandson. She never got a chance to meet my Eddie. But please… leave Tom Paris alone. We don't belong in his life, Kathryn. We were never meant to be happy together. As hard as it feels right now, B'Elanna and Miral need Tom more than you do."

The older woman's voice was choked with emotion and Kathryn couldn't imagine what these words were costing her. She didn't have the heart to tell the older woman that Tom didn't want anything to do with her right now, anyway.

Instead, Kathryn simply replied, "I promise."

Kathryn caught the Admirals hand in her own and squeezed. The other Janeway's grip was firm. She looked up, and her eyes blazed with determination. Kathryn would realize later that this was the only time they ever touched. It was … surreal.

 **####**

With the vessel safely in the Alpha Quadrant and a course set for Earth, Voyager's command team decided to meet the newest member of their family. Actually, it was Chakotay's idea. Visiting sickbay to see the three Paris' was the last thing Kathryn wanted to do. As callous as it sounded, she would _not_ be knitting a monogrammed blanket for this Voyager baby.

Miral Paris was surprisingly small and delicate. For some absurd reason, Kathryn expected her to look like a miniature B'Elanna in full Klingon warrior gear. Instead, she appeared delicate and beautiful with a scattering of B'Elanna's dark hair and Tom's bright blue eyes. It was physically painful to look at her.

In the end, Kathryn could only handle being in sickbay for about two minutes before inventing an excuse about a scheduled communication with Starfleet. She could tell Chakotay knew it was a lie, but said nothing.

She ended up in the little used Forward Lounge on Deck Eight where she could observe the phalanx of ships escorting them towards Earth. Plus, it was deserted and she needed some privacy.

The more she thought about it, the more grateful she was to Admiral Janeway for getting them home. She would never know how her older self managed to live in the tiny town which Voyager represented for sixteen more years. At least, she would have the luxury of disappearing on a planet teeming with nine billion people.

Someone entered the lounge. Kathryn saw his reflection in the observation window, but chose not to react. It took all her willpower to not move. She wanted to run to him and tell him that how much she still loved him and tell him about the baby. She wanted them to sneak down to the never-used Aeroshuttle, nestled safely on the under hull of Voyager. They could be in the tiny shuttle and away before anyone realized they were missing.

She almost laughed at the absurdity of her idea. Three hundred years after opium smoking became obsolete and she just came up with the biggest pipe dream of them all.

Tom's voice was so quiet she almost didn't hear him.

"I just wanted to say thank you."

"For what?" Without turning to him, she replied to his reflection.

"Letting the admiral bring us home."

"I'm pleased it worked out."

They were both behaving in a very adult manner. Kathryn found all this civility very irritating.

Tom placed his hand on her shoulder and gently turned her to face him.

"Look, I just wanted to apologize for how I spoke to you. You were right; I was out of line."

She tried to look him in the eye, but couldn't hold his intense gaze, opting instead to stare down at the deck. "Well, we've all been behaving a bit out of character for the past few months, if truth be told."

"That's not completely true… Kathryn." He hesitated to use her name, not sure if he was allowed anymore. He lifted her chin until she met his eyes. He didn't want to talk to the top of her head. "Look, things are going to get crazy around here soon." He motioned with his eyes at the window where dozens of ships could be seen surrounding them. "Starfleet admirals, debriefings, families, reunions…"

He reached out and took her hands in his as she had done when he came to her quarters to convince her to bring Voyager home.

"I-I just wanted to say that had things been different…"

"Stop, Tom. You shouldn't … we shouldn't even be having this conversation."

"Yes, we should, damn it! I love you, Kathryn Janeway."

"We can't be together." God, it hurt to say that.

He released her hands and turned away from her while sweeping a hand raggedly through his hair.

"Don't you think I know that? I've tried to forget you. I've tried to hate you, even. It doesn't work. Nothing does."

"B'Elanna…"

Tom cut her off before she could complete her thought.

"You think I don't know what a scum I am? Yes! B'Elanna just had the baby and what am I doing? I'm chasing you through the ship because I'm so desperate to not lose you."

"Oh, Tom," Kathryn whispered through watery eyes, "I'm already lost."

 _I was never yours and you were never mine…_

She opened her arms and he came to her, embracing tightly, knowing it would be for the last time.

 **TBC**

 **Author's Notes:**

Don't worry. This is just the end of a chapter, not the end of the story.

And there you have it - yet another reason for the admiral to come back.

Please take the time to leave a review. Thank you.

And coming up… how will their lives in the Alpha Quadrant go from here?

Oh, and how sappy is it that reading my own writing can bring me to tears?


	5. Chapter 5

**Souvenir**

 **Endgame Redux**

 _ **A Star Trek: Voyager fanfiction**_

 **by**

 **CanonAntithesis**

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

 **Chapter 5**

Kathryn awoke to the intoxicating aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the sounds of hushed conversation, both of them wafting up from the first floor kitchen of her mother's house. She stretched lazily and luxuriated in the glorious feeling of waking in her own childhood bedroom.

She'd been home a month now and by that she meant she'd been home in Indiana for a full month, a wonderful month of nothing to do but learning to love her mother and sister again.

This came only after eight solid weeks of debriefings where she was virtually a prisoner. As the captain, she was separated from her crew during an exhaustive Starfleet probe and held in a luxury penthouse "prison" on the grounds of the Presidio. She fought and won every battle they threw at her: clemency for the Maquis and Equinox crews, autonomy for the EMH, plus exoneration for many of her questionable command decisions. However, by the time she was cleared, most of her crew had scattered to the four galactic quadrants. She knew where some of them were … but, she would rather face the Borg Queen single-handedly than to have any contact with the Paris family.

So she resigned her commission and fled home to Indiana and the waiting arms of her mother.

"Good morning, little one," Kathryn whispered as she gently caressed her baby bump. This had become her morning ritual since she came back to Indiana. She felt safe here and knew she wasn't being monitored.

"Guess what," she continued her conversation with her bump, "we're halfway there." Today, Kathryn Janeway was officially twenty weeks pregnant. She had just had her prenatal check up yesterday with the Doctor and all was looking well.

She then took a moment to remember Admiral Janeway's sacrifice as she also did every morning. The admiral had bravely charged onto the Borg mother ship and while no one was there to witness what actually happened, one couldn't argue the circumstantial evidence. The old admiral's body was teaming with a pathogen genetically designed to defeat the Borg. Judging by how quickly the shields failed on the transwarp hub, Kathryn presumed she must have succeeded. Her sacrifice was what enabled Voyager to escape through the hub and destroy it in the process.

She slowly rolled out of bed and headed toward the en suite bathroom. At twenty weeks pregnant, the pressure on her bladder usually forced her up at least twice during the night and so many times during the day that she didn't bother to count. She quickly relieved herself, and donning a robe, headed down to the kitchen to face her inquisitor, also known as her sister Phoebe.

Her mother had been absolutely wonderful, welcoming her oldest daughter back home with open arms and an open heart and not a single awkward question on her lips. She was simply thrilled that her Katie made it back safely. She was also ecstatic that at 68 years old she was finally going to be a grandmother.

Kathryn's younger sister, Phoebe, was a different story. She was a free spirit in every sense of the word and the polar opposite of Kathryn. Although separated by only four years in age, they were light-years apart in every other aspect of their lives. Kathryn was a scientist, ruled by that discipline, by what she could see and touch and measure. Phoebe was an artist, ruled by emotions and a incomprehensible belief in spirituality. She had sensed within herself when their father had died even though he was light years away. She had never experienced that seismic shift within herself when Voyager disappeared and therefore, she refused to believe Kathryn was dead. And now, she refused to accept Kathryn's silence on the subject of her impending motherhood.

"Good morning, Mama," Kathryn breezed into the cozy traditionalist kitchen and gave her mother a peck on the cheek before making a beeline for the coffee pot. "Hi, Brat," she tossed lightly over her shoulder to her younger sister who was sitting across from their mother at the small round table in the center of the kitchen.

Phoebe sneered at her over the brim of her cup of tea. They really were complete opposites.

Her mother would have made Tom Paris proud with her insistence on using an antique percolator to brew her morning coffee. _Damn it!_ She almost broke her record of four days between thoughts of her young fair-haired pilot. _Damn it, again. He's not your pilot anymore, Kathryn. If truth be known, he never was._

Phoebe watched her older sister carefully. She had seen Kathryn broken before. After their father and Kathryn's fiance were killed, Kathryn sank into a deep, devastating depression. After weeks of languishing in bed and refusing to face life, Phoebe had taken it upon herself to physically force her sister to get up and reclaim her life.

Now, Starfleet was trying to paint Kathryn as the "Darling of the Delta Quadrant", a conquering hero and rallying point for a quadrant still recovering from the devastating Dominion War only three years earlier. They tried to present her as some domineering force of nature, but Phoebe knew Kathryn was a person, every bit as fragile as Phoebe herself. Kathryn was having none of Starfleet's manipulation and was steadfastly refusing all interviews and offers of holonovels or endorsements or anything else they were offering. As such, she had holed herself up in their mother's house and refused any and all visitors with the exception of Mark Johnson and his wife, Carla. Phoebe was certain that the only reason she tolerated the Johnsons was because Mark still had one of Mollie's puppies. Mark was Kathryn's second fiance and had married a colleague of his after Voyager was declared lost in action. Kathryn had entrusted her pregnant dog, Mollie, to his care when she had left with Voyager on what was supposed to be a short mission. Now, Jenny, the runt of that litter, was Kathryn's only link to her treasured deceased pet.

Phoebe was studying her now, beneath that facade of happiness that she tried to project to their mother. However, Phoebe could clearly see there was more to Kathryn's solitude than some newly found meekness and she thought she knew what it was. She caught a hint of something flash in Kathryn's eyes as she poured her coffee, a sadness, and something more. She couldn't lay her finger on it right now, but Phoebe was sure it had something to do with her impending motherhood and the father which Kathryn refused to name.

Kathryn joined her mother and sister at the table. She wasted no time and quickly lifted the steaming cup up to her nose, cradling it in both hands while inhaling the heavenly aroma of the freshly brewed coffee.

"Mmmm, she was right," murmured Kathryn to no one in particular.

"Who was right, dear?" enquired her mother, Gretchen.

"Admiral Janeway," replied Kathryn and then to clarify for Phoebe, added, "My future self who came back in time to bring Voyager home."

Phoebe nodded. Enough of Voyager's story had been leaked to the press that Phoebe probably knew as much about Voyager's trip through the transwarp hub as Kathryn.

"Anyway, she told me I'd like coffee again and she was right … even though it's decaf, it still tastes divine."

"When did _you_ ever not like coffee?" scoffed Phoebe. She was sure Kathryn had coffee running through her veins.

"When the mere thought of it made me nauseous."

"Ah, yes…," murmured Gretchen, "the joys of the first trimester."

"Ohhhh," huffed Phoebe with an eye roll that would turn an adolescent girl green with envy.

She hated when Gretchen and Kathryn started discussing the horrors of pregnancy or the joys of motherhood. To her, they were interchangeable. She couldn't relate and she didn't even _want_ to relate. Phoebe had never been been interested in children and she had thought until now that Kathryn felt the same way.

"Sooo…," Phoebe asked in an effort to redirect the conversation back to something she actually had an interest in, "What are your plans for today?"

Phoebe knew Kathryn's plans. They were the same plans she had every day - absolutely nothing. Kathryn arrived exhausted and pregnant a month ago and had seldom left the house since. She was barely showing when she first came home. In fact if you didn't know her, you would have thought her little tummy was just a harbinger of middle age.

Phoebe knew her sister, even if she hadn't seen her in seven years. She knew it immediately. In fact, the first words out of her mouth were, "My God, Kathryn, you're pregnant." Now, of course, there was no denying the source of her bump.

"I don't know...," Kathryn answered as she picked at a slice of pumpkin bread her mother had plopped in front of her, "I'll probably read a book or something; maybe go for a walk…"

"Well, I'm going to Chicago. I've been meaning to go to the Field Museum to see their exhibit on ancient Greece. I'm thinking of incorporating some of their inlay work into one of my new commissions and since I'm so close, I thought today would be a great day to go." Most of her work leaned more towards modern impressionism, but a commission was a commission. "Would either of you like to join me?"

Gretchen pushed back from the table as she stood. "Well, I'm going to have to bow out of this road trip, girls. I've got someone coming for lunch."

"Oh? Would you rather I stay and help?" offered Phoebe.

"I love both of you dearly, you know that, but you are both disasters in the kitchen. And besides, it's just Julia Paris. I think I can handle it."

"Admiral Paris' wife?" asked Phoebe.

"That's right. We became quite close during the time Katie was gone."

Kathryn swallowed the quickly forming lump in her throat. Of all the people she had been avoiding, the entire Paris family was number one on the list.

Gretchen continued, "That poor woman needs a break. As you know, her son, Tom, and his wife and baby, have moved in with them and, well, things are a little tense - all those different personalities living under one roof."

Kathryn carefully pursed her lips and spoke very carefully, trying desperately to hide her nervousness, "I think the museum trip sounds like a wonderful idea. I'd love to join you, Phoebe."

Phoebe was gobsmacked. However, before she could comment, their mother beat her to it.

"You're going out?" Gretchen asked in obvious surprise. "Are you sure that's a wise thing to do, Katie? I mean, there could be reporters."

"To tell the truth, Mama, I'm becoming a little stir crazy and I think Chicago would be large enough to hide in. Besides," she added, pushing herself back from the table and patting her belly, "I don't look anything like the magnificent Captain Janeway, Darling of the Delta Quadrant. I just look like an overweight middle-aged woman."

Phoebe guffawed at that statement, but decided she might actually enjoy going to an art museum with her big sister.

"I think that sounds like a wonderful idea, Katie. It'll be fun. I've got a new commission and these people are insane about metal inlay."

 **####**

Frigid pouring rain filled the skies over Lake Michigan and a driving wind made an already miserable day even worse. Even so, Kathryn felt so much better by just being away from the house, that she could put up with a little bad weather. She didn't begin to breath normally until they walked through the old fashioned swinging doors of the Field Museum. This museum was an heirloom of a bygone era, sort of. The original building was destroyed during the third World War, along with most of North America. However, in a massive urban renewal effort, it was rebuilt using original recovered blueprints. Most of the original exhibits had been saved by hiding them, ironically, in abandoned cold war missile silos. Now the Field Museum, with its magnificent lakefront venue, attracted visitors from all over the quadrant.

The two women were drenched to the bone after a two block run through the rain from the closest public transport station.

"Who's idea was this, anyway?" moaned Phoebe as she stamped her feet to shake off the rain and the chill.

Kathryn was more optimistic. "Look on the bright side. This could be a snow storm."

"Well, at least snow is pretty. This is miserable."

They decided to dry out in the museum's coffee shop with cups of hot cocoa. While they warmed up, Kathryn and Phoebe looked over the museum's exhibit summary on the disposable PADD they had picked up from the information station. It came preloaded with all the information anyone would need concerning the exhibits at the institute plus a holographic guided tour. At the end of their visit, they would just drop the PADD in a recycler on their way out.

"Well, I'm really only interested in seeing the Greek exhibit, but I know you and you'll want to look in each and every room and read each and every tag on each and every item," Phoebe pointed out the obvious to her detail-minded, scientist sister. "So why don't we just start at the top and work our way down?"

Kathryn grabbed onto Phoebe's arm as they exited the coffee shop.

"Brilliant idea, Brat," she said with genuine affection in her voice.

 **####**

Phoebe was bored out of her skull. She was the artist, but it was Kathryn who was relishing these exhibits.

"Katie…" Phoebe whined, "We're only on the third room and we've been here for three hours. I'm not a scientist, but even I can extrapolate and see that the museum will close and we'll never even get close to the Greek exhibit, which is why we're here in the first place."

"I'm sorry, Pheebs, but I haven't been inside a real flesh and blood museum in almost eight years. It's a little overwhelming and I really don't want to miss a single thing." Kathryn sighed as she looked over the PADD trying to decide what she could manage to skip.

"Look," Phoebe pointed out an exhibit on the next floor down. "Let's go there next."

"Okay," Kathryn agreed reluctantly. "Did you know my first officer was descended from Mayans?"

They walked into a room with low level lighting and Kathryn immediately grew excited as she grabbed Phoebe and pulled her over to some oil paintings.

"Look at this, Phoebe," she pointed out a whole series of paintings featuring stylized works with various animals, bears, deer, bison, etc. "These are depictions of animal spirits. They're very important to Native Americans. They act as a guide, sort of a conscience, to help them make decisions." She became more and more animated as she dragged Phoebe from painting to painting. "In fact, I know you won't believe this, but I actually have a spirit guide."

"You? You've got to be kidding."

Kathryn was the most pragmatic, logical human Phoebe has ever met. Phoebe was the one who believed in spirits, not Kathryn. Not ever.

"I'm serious. I went on a vision quest with Chakotay …"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You, straight-laced Kathryn Janeway, smoked peyote?" Phoebe had heard about the psychotropic drugs which brought a person's mind into a state where they would be more conducive to contacting the spirit world.

"Oh, Pheebs… No one uses peyote anymore. Chakotay has an Akoonah. It's an electronic device which helps maintain the meditative state."

"Sure it does," Phoebe commented skeptically. Maybe no one in Starfleet used peyote, but she knew for a fact that drugs were still used throughout the galaxy to "help maintain the meditative state".

She was walking around the Mayan gallery now, explaining how she came to find her spirit guide with Chakotay's patient aid. Kathryn's voice echoed in the deserted hall.

"Oh, I was horrible, completely skeptical. Always the scientist. But then… I saw it! Right there. Sunning itself on a rock." Kathryn's eyes grew wide as she noticed someone walk up behind her sister.

Phoebe was actually starting to get interested in her sister's story, as unlikely as it was. She asked conspiratorially, "What was it?"

"She can't tell you," came a gentle male voice from behind Phoebe.

Phoebe whirled around to see a tall, dark man with a very distinctive tattoo on the left side of his face. She knew instantly who he was, even though they had never met.

"Commander Chakotay…" murmured Phoebe.

 **TBC**

Author's Note:

A special thanks to my beta, Harpokrates, because she's cruel, mean, and heartless. If I have to hear one more time, "you're telling, not showing…"

She's makes this story better.


	6. Chapter 6

**Souvenir**

 **Endgame Redux**

 _ **A Star Trek: Voyager fanfiction**_

 **by**

 **CanonAntithesis**

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

" _Commander Chakotay…" murmured Phoebe._

 **Chapter 6**

"That's right."

His smile was very disarming and his dimples were…

Phoebe was interrupted in her musings by the clipped female voice coming from behind the handsome commander.

"If one reveals the identity of one's animal spirit, the animal spirit will take it as a great insult."

A tall blonde stepped up to join Chakotay. She was almost as tall as he and Phoebe failed to place her at first. She wore a billowing dress which seems very inappropriate for the weather and her blonde hair came down to her shoulders. She wore it parted and it fell down partially covering her left eye. That's why Phoebe didn't recognize her at first glance. The Borg implant on her left eye was obscured. This was the famous Seven of Nine.

"Chakotay also aided me in my vision quest." She walked up and linked arms with Chakotay in what Phoebe could only interpret as a possessive move.

Phoebe, being the more emotional and feelings-driven member of their family, tended to make snap decisions and then just go with them. Therefore, she decided immediately that she did not like this woman.

That's when she realized that Kathryn had become uncharacteristically quiet, so she turned to see if her sister was still standing there. Her movement put Kathryn in direct line of sight to Chakotay who was smiling broadly until his eyes fell on the Kathryn's expanding waist.

"Chakotay," Kathryn voiced in a whisper.

"Kathryn…" he replied, but then didn't seem to know what else to say.

Seven didn't seem to notice the awkwardness of the situation. She stepped forward to greet her former captain.

"Captain Janeway. It's a pleasure to see you again." She held out her hand to shake Kathryn's. Kathryn numbly held hers out in response. "I had not realized you were pregnant. I believe congratulations are in order."

"Thank you, Seven," whispered Kathryn. She actually felt a little better by talking to Seven. Maybe she was being foolish hiding from all the people she loved. "But I'm not your captain anymore. Please call me Kathryn."

"That will be a difficult transition, but I shall endeavour to abide by your wishes."

Even though she looked human, especially with all that cleavage in her low-cut dress, Phoebe thought she sounded like a Vulcan who had just completed all the rituals of Kolinahr.

The commander let the women talk as he watched on in silence. However, as he stood there, his expression changed from one of wonder to one of guilt. Phoebe was beginning to dislike him too. He didn't step forward to talk to Kathryn; he just stood quietly and watched the two women interact.

In watching Kathryn with her former crewmembers, Phoebe was struck with an epiphany. Suddenly, everything fell into place: Kathryn's reluctance to go out in public, shutting herself off from her crew, not wanting to discuss any personal relationships on Voyager - particularly the identity of the baby's father. And now, there was this unmistakable look of guilt on this man's face.

She finally understood what was bothering Kathryn. It was Voyager's darkly handsome first officer and their reclaimed drone. It was obvious they were a couple. Therefore, Phoebe quickly jumped the only conclusion available to her highly emotional mind. It all made complete sense.

 **####**

Chakotay couldn't believe his eyes. He had brought Seven here to see the exhibit on Mayan culture, but nothing would have prepared him for running into Kathryn Janeway. The crew had split apart when their debriefings had ended. Most went to see family. Chakotay took advantage of the six months of leave Starfleet gave them to take Seven to Trebus to meet his sister. All life on Trebus had been destroyed by the Cardassians, but the tribe, along with tremendous support from Starfleet, was slowly starting to reclaim and recover the planet after the defeat of the Cardassians in the Dominion War.

Next week, they were going to Sweden to stay with Seven's aunt. He wasn't sure where his relationship with Seven was going, but he was certainly willing to give it a chance. There was no denying that having the attentions of such a young, beautiful woman held a definite boost to his middle-aged ego.

No one had seen Kathryn since her debriefing ended, which was weeks after everyone else was released. She simply disappeared. He had tried to contact her through her mother, but Gretchen was an excellent security officer and wouldn't allow anyone to speak with her daughter.

Now he knew why. Kathryn was pregnant. It was obviously Paris' child from when they were on Quarra. What he didn't understand was why she was hiding it, especially from him. He was her First Officer. Not only that, they were best friends, confidants; at least they had been. As Chakotay stood watching Kathryn and Seven talk, his face flushed with shame. In those last few months in the Delta Quadrant, right when Kathryn would have been dealing with an unexpected pregnancy, he was so self-absorbed in his relationship with Seven, that he hadn't been there for her.

Before he could ponder this further, a tall woman with a thick mass of curly dark hair was in his face. If it wasn't for those clear grey eyes, he wouldn't have recognized her. However, there was no mistaking those Janeway eyes. He knew Kathryn had a sister who was an artist, so this must have been her.

"Hello," Chakotay said pleasantly. "You must be Kathryn's …"

"You God-damned, son-of-a-bitch!" With that Phoebe hauled back and punched Chakotay square on the nose.

Chakotay was a competent boxer. However, that was when he was in the ring and he realized he was in a fight before being attacked by a 125 pound ball of anger. As a result of his unpreparedness and her adrenaline, Chakotay went down like a rock.

 **####**

Later on, Kathryn would swear she never saw Seven move, but there was Seven with Phoebe's wrist in a Borg death grip, as the tall blonde hauled her away from Chakotay.

Kathryn and Chakotay's voices echoed in the nearly empty gallery simultaneously.

"Seven! Stop, don't hurt her."

"Phoebe! What are you doing?"

Seven released her hold on Phoebe and the smaller woman backed away cradling her wrist in her other arm. Seven then committed the ultimate sin by offering Chakotay a hand to help him rise from the floor. And Chakotay added to his humiliation of being decked by a woman by gratefully accepting her help.

"I'm so sorry, Chakotay," Kathryn said as she dragged Phoebe by her uninjured arm towards the exit, "I'll comm you soon. I promise."

 **####**

The two sisters didn't speak until they were standing at the transport site.

"What the hell was that all about?", Kathryn asked with a quaver in her voice. The quaver wasn't from the seething anger she was feeling right now. It was from the bone chilling numbness that had reattached itself to her after dragging Phoebe out of the museum and through the rain again.

"I'd hit him again if I could," Phoebe spat indignantly as she continued to clutch her injured wrist to her chest.

"But Phoebe," Kathryn said, trying to be reasonable, "you don't even know Chakotay. Why would you attack him?"

"Kathryn, for Spirit's sake, have a little backbone. How could _you_ not attack him? How could you just stand there and make nice with that, that… drone!"

"What?"

"I know, Kathryn."

"Know what?"

"He's the father."

Phoebe didn't expect the reaction she received. Kathryn doubled over into a full fledged belly laugh.

"Oh, that's a good one. If only… Pheebs. Trust me, it would make my life so much easier if he was, but you're wrong."

They queued up to the transport platform and stopped arguing for the few seconds it took to teleport back to Bloomington.

As they approached Gretchen's antiquated hovercar, Phoebe looked sadly at the vehicle.

"You're going to have to drive. That stupid Borg broke my wrist!"

"Quit being such a brat! Your wrist is not broken. If it was, we wouldn't be having this conversation. I know you and your low pain threshold." Kathryn held out her hand to her younger sister. "Hand the activator over. I'm a better driver anyway."

Kathryn skillfully maneuvered the hovercar out onto the road which was quite a feat, given its awkward size. Their mother's car was over twenty years old and barely held enough charge to drive from her house to the transport station in Bloomington and back again, but Gretchen loved it. A true traditionalist, she preferred the hovercar over transporter technology any day.

"So you're denying it?", Phoebe asked as if there had been no break in conversation. "That's pitiful. I mean I can't blame you; he is a fine looking man - those dimples alone could leave you feeling weak in the knees. And he was your first officer, so you spent oodles of time together. And it's not like you could have a relationship with any of your junior officers, so that would only leave Chakotay."

Phoebe was a 'fleet brat, of course, and even though she didn't chose Starfleet as a career, she certainly understood all the nuisances of the military command structure. Kathryn had worked long and hard to attain the grade of Captain, which along with Commander were considered senior officer grades. Ensigns, Lieutenants (junior grade), Lieutenants, and Lieutenant Commanders were considered junior officer grades. 'And never the twain shall meet', as the saying went.

After a few minutes of Kathryn's silence, Phoebe slammed her hand on the dashboard and winced in obvious pain.

Cursing under her breath, Phoebe added, "Ugh, you're infuriating. This whole thing is so obvious. You did the deed with that hot first officer of yours, he dumped you for some busty blonde Borg and now, you're left high and dry and oh, did I forget to mention … pregnant! "

Kathryn sighed. "I'm not having this discussion right now, Phoebe. I need to pay attention to the road or I'll get us killed. However, I will prove to you that Chakotay isn't the father when we get home."

 **####**

Gretchen glanced up from her book as Kathryn stormed through the door, followed closely by Phoebe.

"Just admit, Katie. You know it's the truth."

Kathryn spun around to face her sister.

"Look, you badgering me isn't going to get me to admit to something that isn't true."

"Hello, girls," Gretchen called in an overly calm voice. "I didn't expect you back so soon. I take it things … didn't go so well?"

"Mmmff!" exclaimed Kathryn to her mother, then turning back to Phoebe said through gritted teeth, "I had a doctor's appointment last week. I'll bring up the records on Mama's computer." Then, turning to their mother, Kathryn asked politely, "And Mama? Could you please take a look at Phoebe's wrist? She thinks she broke it, but it's probably just a sprain."

Without waiting for a reply she stormed off in the direction of their father's old study, which had the largest holoprojector in the house.

 **####**

"What's this all about?" Gretchen whispered to Phoebe while Kathryn inputted some parameters into the home holoprojector. It wasn't state-of-the-art like the ones in Starfleet, so she had to enter them manually.

They had just entered the room after Gretchen treated Phoebe's injuries. Kathryn was correct and the wrist wasn't broke. It was just mildly sprained. Gretchen also healed her scraped knuckles. Phoebe explained what happened at the museum with Kathryn's former first officer and former Borg and her mother listened quietly without offering any comments.

"Computer, access Kathryn Janeway's medical file."

A beep from the computer let her know the command was completed. The Janeway home computer didn't have vocal feedback as was standard within Starfleet.

"Project a holographic image of the baby extrapolated to," Kathryn paused as she thought about what she wanted to see, "… one year of age."

An image appeared in the middle of the room and despite the argument the two sisters had had over the past hour, both of them cooed at the baby which seemed to be floating in mid-air. The baby's pale skin, wispy white-blonde hair and bright blue eyes showed beyond any doubt that Chakotay couldn't possibly be the father.

"Oh, Katie…" Gretchen exclaimed, "he's absolutely beautiful."

"He is, Katie," Phoebe said in awe. "And I'm sorry about the misunderstanding."

Kathryn inhaled deeply. The last thing she wanted right now was an argument with her sister.

"Well, I, for one, am glad that's settled. I have some pie left over from lunch and you two look like you need something warm to drink," suggested Gretchen as she started to escort Kathryn from the room.

Phoebe was still studying the baby.

"He doesn't look much like a Janeway, does he?" she murmured mostly to herself. "Of course, neither do I. Right, Mom?" She looked to Gretchen for confirmation.

The Janeways had been predominantly red-headed and blue or grey eyed since time immemorial. Phoebe's curly dark hair came from Gretchen's family.

"Well, it's time some variety was added to mix. Now, how about that pie?" Gretchen reminded them as she started for the door again.

"You know; he may end up looking more like me," said Phoebe. "Let's see if the blonde hair stays around. Wasn't I blonde at one point? Computer…"

"That's not necessary, Phoebe," Kathryn warned in a tone which would have commanded immediate obedience aboard Voyager.

Phoebe ignored her.

"... extrapolate what the child would look like at age twelve years."

The holographic image immediately altered to show a prepubescent boy with wavy blonde hair and incredibly familiar bright blue eyes.

Gretchen stepped back into the room and slowly approached the figure.

Gretchen was astounded. "Why, he looks so familiar… Computer, show age at twenty years."

"Mama, don't!" came Kathryn's panicked voice on the heels of her mother's request.

The image shifted to show an adult human male. All three women gasped at the figure. Kathryn's heart tightened to see that he was the complete twin of a young Tom Paris. Phoebe muttered that he was incredibly handsome. However, it was Gretchen's reaction that caused everyone to stop.

"Oh my God, Kathryn! That's Owen's boy, Tom!"

 **~TBC~**

Author's Notes:

Dun, dun, dunnnnnnn!


	7. Chapter 7

**Souvenir**

 **Endgame Redux**

 _ **A Star Trek: Voyager fanfiction**_

 **by**

 **CanonAntithesis**

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

 **Chapter 7**

"What do you mean you're leaving?" Tom was trying to keep his voice down so his parents didn't hear yet another disagreement between him and his wife.

Clothes haphazardly flew into a large duffel bag lying on their shared bed, shared for sleeping, anyway. Even though B'Elanna was medically cleared for intimate relations, they had not actually made love yet. Tom was trying to give her all the time she needed, but this … insanity was beyond the pale.

B'Elanna stopped in the middle of their bedroom and tilted her head to him in a patronizing manner. "I've already explained this a dozen times. Weren't you listening?"

She turned to an open dresser drawer and scooped up a large armload of its contents. Tom stood between her and the bed, not giving up on hearing some logic from his wife.

"Well, explain it again. I thought your mother was dead and now you're telling me you need to go find her?"

B'Elanna had started to change after she obtained her mother's possessions. They had appeared at his parent's house a couple of weeks ago, mostly just trinkets, well Klingon trinkets at any rate. That meant it included a fair amount of knives and small pieces of armor. B'Elanna had become very secretive and wouldn't let him see any of it beyond the glance he got when the box first showed up. She claimed that he wasn't Klingon and therefore, wouldn't understand.

"Look, I know it won't make sense to a human, but she left a message for me to come to Boreth. She's not dead, Tom. She's waiting for me and I need go find her. She's family." B'Elanna had the nerve to look him dead in the eye when she spouted that ridiculous statement.

Tom took her hands and held on firmly. "B'Elanna, I'm family too. Miral and I are your family. She's only two months old for God's sake."

She flung off his hold and stalked around him back to the bed. There she grabbed her bag and cinched it tight, quickly throwing it over her shoulder as she marched towards the bedroom door.

"I knew you wouldn't understand." She stalked out of the room.

Tom started to chase her down the hall and beg her to stay. He was willing to act the fool in front of his own parents if she wouldn't leave. But as he reached the top of the stairs, he heard the distinctive sounds of his daughter, waking from a nap and undoubtedly wet and hungry. Hanging his head down, he turned toward Miral's room just as he heard the front door slam shut. She hadn't even said goodbye to her baby.

 **####**

"Don't be silly, Tom. What do you mean, 'she's, gone'?" questioned Julia Paris as Tom frantically punched his request into the kitchen replicator.

Julia ran her hand in gentle little circles across baby Miral's back as she walked back and forth across the large kitchen with Miral pressed against her chest. She had quickly found a soothing rhythm for the baby as she continually circled the room.

Tom finally completed his entry into the replicator and turned around with a baby bottle in his hand. He stood there holding the bottle, not sure if he should hand over the bottle or retrieve his daughter. Miral started bobbing her head on her grandmother's chest and Tom's dilemma resolved itself as his mother took the bottle from him.

She settled herself and the baby in a more comfortable chair in the sunroom and Tom sat down anxiously next to her. Julia Paris wore her gray hair in a roll at the base of her neck. Practical and efficient, especially when dealing with an inquisitive baby. Unlike B'Elanna's hair, which hung loose, Miral had nothing to grab onto. Even so the baby was reluctant to take the bottle, but thankfully Julia Paris was experienced with resistant babies. After raising Tom and his two sisters, even a one-quarter Klingon was no match for this formidable grandmother. Finally she latched onto the bottle and attacked it like one of her ancestors in full battle mode.

"Well?" she pushed.

He rubbed the back of his neck and hesitantly replied, "She's gone to find her mother."

"I thought her mother was dead."

"So did I. So did B'Elanna, but apparently…"

"Apparently?"

"She's not."

Tom went on to explain, as best he could, B'Elanna's odd behavior and her insistence that Miral Torres was still alive.

"I don't understand it, Mom. I thought she was doing fine." At Julia's questioning look, Tom explained. "B'Elanna hasn't been having an easy time. This motherhood thing didn't seem to come naturally to her, but she was trying. She really was. So when she received this information about her mom, I was totally shocked."

He scrubbed his hand over his face and thought back to when he spoke to Kathryn before they arrived at Earth. He was so confused then. There was a small part of him that wanted nothing more than to take her by the hand and sneak down to the never-used Aeroshuttle, nestled safely under hull of Voyager. They could be in the tiny shuttle and away before anyone realized they were missing. Instead, he had done the "honorable thing" and taken his new family home to the Paris' house where he had devoted his all to being a good husband and father.

Now, since B'Elanna left, Tom found himself slipping back into that mindset where a life with Kathryn Janeway seemed completely plausible. Maybe, he could go visit her in Indiana. His mother had just visited Mrs. Janeway yesterday and he knew Kathryn was staying at her mother's house. His mom could watch Miral. He could go around noon and see if she wanted to eat lunch with him.

"I can't believe she would just abandon her baby," Julia was saying. "I mean if she wasn't married and a mother, she would have been free to follow her heart. But as it stands now, B'Elanna should have put her child's needs before those of her own. Of course, I can certainly understand why she left without saying anything to Owen or myself, even the most basic scrutiny would have revealed the lunacy and selfishness of her act. " Her words were venomous, but the expression on her face as she gazed down at her first grandchild showed complete serenity.

Tom had started to tune out as he had always done when receiving a lecture from his parents, but he suddenly realized that he couldn't let his mother insult B'Elanna like that. He had to defend her. Or rather, he had to defend the choice he had made in choosing B'Elanna. After all, she was his wife and he loved her, at least he thought did.

"Mom, that's not fair. B'Elanna's struggling with her Klingon heritage and we should try to support her." His words sounded weak to his own ears.

"I thought you agreed with me," Julia snapped, leaving the phrase, 'for once', unsaid. "A child needs safety and stability."

"I know. I know. I just…"

Tom jumped up so suddenly that he startled the baby who jerked away from her bottle as her eyes grew wide and her mouth curled down into a deep frown.

 _Oh, no._ He knew that look. It was always followed by...

Miral turned bright red and screamed at the top of her tiny Klingon lungs.

Julia silently presented the squalling infant to her son with a knowing look on face.

She had to shout to be heard. "Thank, God, she still has you, Tom. Here, your daughter needs to be burped."

He took the baby automatically placed a cloth on his left shoulder before lifting Miral up and beginning to gently pat her back, simultaneously soothing her and coaxing forth a burp. Tears sprung to his eyes when he realized that just minutes earlier he was seriously contemplating leaving this precious being he had help make. God, he was such an ass.

####

Julia loved her only son deeply, but she hadn't taken to her new daughter-in-law as quickly as her husband had. She found B'Elanna quick to anger and quick to find fault with Tom. Although neither of them would discuss it, Julia clearly saw some undefined tension between the two. It couldn't be easy to live in such an isolated community for seven years and then to suddenly be thrust back into the hubbub of life on Earth.

When she tried to voice her concerns to Owen, he dismissed it as the anxiety of first-time parents. Plus, he told her, coming back to Earth so unexpectedly, would put a strain on any marriage.

Julia wasn't completely convinced, she thought that, perhaps, all of the Voyager crew were having issues adjusting to life back on Earth. In fact she tried to discuss her concerns with Gretchen just yesterday at their lunch in Bloomington.

" _So how's Kathryn adjusting?" At Gretchen's raised eyebrow, she elaborated. "I mean to life back home. Tom and B'Elanna… well, they're … arguing … quite a bit actually."_

" _Katie's fine," Gretchen replied cautiously. "Happy to be home, but reluctant to discuss much of the last seven years."_

 _Julia was sure she was holding back something, but she decided not to confront her._

" _New babies can put a lot of stress on a marriage," Gretchen continued, "especially when Starfleet's around."_

" _Ain't that the truth," chuckled Julia. Both she and Gretchen shared a common history of husbands married to their careers._

" _But tell me about your grandbaby. I saw the holopics. She's a cutie."_

 _A brilliant smile appeared on Julia's face. "Oh my, yes. Miral is gorgeous."_

They spent the next hour cooing at the latest vids of the newest Paris scion.

 **####**

Tom stared into his empty mug of beer as the early morning sun made its appearance through the floor to ceiling windows of the Paris' sunroom. He thought about getting up and ordering yet another one from the replicator, but he couldn't seem to harness the energy required. Instead, he looked down at the small object in his hand, the starboard nacelle from Joe Carey's model of Voyager.

 _After he woke up alone in Carey's bed, Tom was initially angry. He couldn't believe she'd run out on him. He quickly pulled on his pants and started pacing the small room, trying to get some control over his emotions. He yelped in pain and fell onto the bed when something hard and sharp jabbed in his heel. The starboard nacelle from Joe's ship in a bottle. He remembered her holding it, but it must have fallen to the floor when they…_

 _He suddenly felt disgusted with himself. He'd bedded his captain in the bed of a good friend of his, a friend who was dead. It was sickening and he knew he had to get out of that room. He finished dressing and decided to straighten out the covers on the bed before he left. It just seemed like the right thing to do._

 _As an afterthought, Tom picked up the nacelle and put it in his pocket before he rushed from the room._

Now he carried the small piece of plastic as a token, a secret memory of her and their shared sin. Even so, a day didn't go by that he didn't think about her and wish he could see her. Not be together, necessarily, but just to see her. It's hard to realize how dependent you became on certain routines and constants in your life and Kathryn Janeway was the most stable force he had had in his life in the past seven years, hell, in the past fifteen years, if he was honest.

Even before he fell in love with her, her confident presence in his life made everything stay in focus. He wanted her to be proud of him, to believe in him, to believe that she hadn't made a mistake by finding him in Auckland.

What would she say about him now?

Owen entered the kitchen and walked straight to the replicator to retrieve his morning coffee. Tom saw him through an alcohol filtered haze, but didn't make his presence known. He really didn't feel up to a confrontation.

His dad carried his coffee into the sunroom and stopped in front of that glorious view as the sun rose leisurely above the Golden Gate Bridge. Lifting the cup to his lips, he seemed to be enjoying the morning quiet before the normal hustle and bustle of the household started.

"Julia tells me that B'Elanna left," Owen said to the window.

"I didn't think you knew I was sitting here," Tom replied, his voice somewhat slurred.

"Hard to miss. You smell you like a beer keg."

"Yeah? Well, I had a rough night. Miral misses her mom. She didn't sleep much."

"So instead of sleeping when your daughter sleeps and having the energy to keep up with her all day, you decide to feel sorry for yourself and drown your sorrows in a pint of beer?"

"I think it was more like a gallon, but who's counting." His voice was flippant, sounding more like the rebellious teenager he was fifteen years ago than the upstanding Starfleet officer he was today. That was fine because he didn't feel very upstanding right now. He felt pretty worthless.

"I just glad Kathryn Janeway can't see you now. You know, I fought her decision to have you released from prison. I didn't think you were up to the challenge." Owen's voice grew harder and colder with every word. "She thought you were. And I thought Kathryn had changed you for the better. I see I was wrong. You don't know what it's like to pour your entire life into a child, only to watch that child fail time and again to live up to your expectations. I don't know where I went wrong with you, Tom, but I did. I blame myself for what you've become."

 _She did change me, but I'm not sure I like the person I became._

Admiral Paris tried to make eye contact with Tom, but he refused to look up. With a disgusted sigh, he stormed out.

Tom looked around the empty room, feeling like his life was crashing in on top of him, but also that the buzz of the alcohol had completely left his system. He felt oddly sadden by this.

Before he could wallow in anymore self pity, Tom heard the distinctive cries of Miral wafting down the stairwell from her open bedroom door. He slowly rose, readying himself for a new day.

 **~TBC~**

Author's Notes:

I thought people might want to know what's happening with poor old Tom. Man, his life sucks worse than Janeway's.


	8. Chapter 8

**Souvenir**

 **Endgame Redux**

 _ **A Star Trek: Voyager fanfiction**_

 **by**

 **CanonAntithesis**

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

" _Oh my God, Kathryn! That's Owen's boy, Tom!"_

 **Chapter 8**

Phoebe slowly backed into the room, bumping the door open with her rear. She carried a fully loaded tray through the doorway and placed it awkwardly on a clear spot at the edge of the dresser. The bedroom was dark so Phoebe reached over and touched the small table table, bringing a soft glow to the room.

She could now make out the outline of a figure curled on the bed. Thinking her sister asleep, Phoebe stared back at the tray laden with coffee and Gretchen's famous made-from-scratch caramel brownies. The decision made, she turned quietly toward the door to leave.

"Is Mama still mad?" drifted a quiet voice from the bed.

Phoebe immediately changed directions and approached the bed.

"She was never mad at you, you goof. Don't you understand, Kath? She's so thrilled to have you home, you could murder the President of the Federation in front of a million witnesses and she still wouldn't be mad at you." Phoebe sat down beside Kathryn who was positioned away from her. "Although she is a bit disappointed."

"Oh hell, that's worse than mad; that's much worse," Kathryn lamented.

Phoebe glanced back at the tray on the dresser and said petulantly, "She made you some brownies. Mom hasn't made me any brownies in over five years."

Kathryn rolled over and propped herself up on an elbow.

"Well, what are waiting for? Bring'em over. I think we need them."

Phoebe happily complied.

After they had eaten over half of the goodies on the tray, Kathryn finally asked the question she had been avoiding since the holoprojector's revelation.

"What am I going to do? Earth isn't as big as I thought it was. I mean look what happened today. What are the odds of running into Chakotay and Seven in a museum in Chicago? It's only so long before I run into one of the Paris'. I've been ignoring Admiral Paris' comms for weeks now."

"Why do you have to hide? I mean, okay, you screwed up … literally, but you're Kathryn Janeway. You defeated the Borg and countless other baddies and got your ship home in only seven years when it should have taken over seventy. What are you afraid of?"

Kathryn sighed and slowly rubbed her belly as she spoke. "First of all, I didn't get us home. That was the admiral and I promised her that I'd stay away from Tom." Her eyes held a deep sorrow when she explained, "Oh, Phoebe, her life was horrible; her son's life was horrible. And I'm pretty sure he was dead in her future, but she wouldn't talk about it. I can't go back on my word. I've already done … things I'm not particularly proud of, but I won't betray the promise I made to her or the trust she had in me."

"You slept with a married man." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes," Kathryn whispered quietly as she looked down at the evidence of her duplicity bulging out from beneath her hand. "There were... extenuating circumstances, but that doesn't excuse…"

"You're human, Kathryn, and humans aren't perfect." Phoebe took a bite off a brownie before continuing. "I once had an affair with one of my married art professors."

Kathryn's eyebrow arched of its own accord. "You? Seriously?"

"Oh, yeah," Phoebe confirmed with a nod. "I had affairs with other professors too, but none of them were married, so they didn't count."

Kathryn couldn't help her reaction. She burst out laughing. "Oh, Phoebe. You are the perfect sister. I love you so much." She reached over and hugged her sister, crushing the brownie between them.

After picking up as many crumbs as they could, Kathryn finally settled down and repeated her question.

"So what do I do now?"

"I think I actually have a solution, temporary as it is."

"Yes?"

 **####**

"Are you two sure this is a good idea?" asked Gretchen as her two daughters sat side-by-side on her living room sofa.

After an hour of discussing the pros and cons of Phoebe's plan, the sisters approached Gretchen with a secluded place for Kathryn to live, at least temporarily.

"You worry too much, Mama. It's only for two semesters," assured Kathryn. "That will get me through the birth and then… well, we'll figure it out as we go along."

"I seem to remember a certain mission which was only supposed to take a few weeks and that ended up taking seven years."

"This is completely different, Mom," added Phoebe. "I've been invited to teach a couple of classes there. It's a wonderful opportunity. I'll be an adjunct professor of fine arts."

The Volan Institute of Art invited Phoebe to join their staff over a month ago, but she had not responded yet. When Kathryn came home, Phoebe decided to turn down the position. Even though it was an wonderful opportunity, she didn't want to be away from her big sister.

"Ha! Adjunct professor… that's code for 'we give you a fancy title so we don't have to pay you as much and we can fire you whenever we want', " quipped Kathryn. "Maybe I can get you tenure. I'm pretty damn persuasive or so I've been told."

"What about the danger? That's on Volan III and it's in Cardassian territory," Gretchen asked with a mother's concern in her voice.

Volan III was the third planet in the Volan planetary system. This system was located on the Cardassian side of the Demilitarized Zone, and was the site of a Federation colony which later became a hotbed of Maquis resistance against the Cardassian empire.

"The Cardassian Union doesn't even exist anymore, Mama. Sure, there are Cardassians living there, but they're in the minority. Most of the inhabitants are Federation citizens. There's even talk of it being admitted to the Federation. And besides, it's sort of a tradition to build art museums and schools at former locations of violence and unrest. There's a wonderful museum on the east coast in a former prison and there's a long standing art commune in an ancient factory that made torpedoes in the 20th century."

"I don't think there's anything to be concerned about, Mama. The school has been in existence for over fifty years and weathered the Dominion War without a scratch," added Kathryn. "And you'll come for the baby's birth, right?" she reached over and grabbed onto her mother's hand.

"I wouldn't miss the birth of my first grandchild for all the latinum in the Alpha Quadrant."

"Thank you, Mama. That means a lot to me. And I'm … sorry that I disappointed ..."

"Oh, no, you don't!" Gretchen cut off what was undoubtedly going to a supreme effort of self -flagellation. "Everyone's done things they're not proud of - myself included. We can't change the past; we can only learn from it."

 **####**

The trip to Volan III was exhausting, especially since they had to travel there in a forty year old freighter. Gone were the days of a Starfleet vessel travelling at warp 9.5 on a direct course to your destination. This civilian freighter was barbaric, but it was the only vessel traveling to Volan III. Apparently, the former Cardassian planet wasn't a destination hotspot. Normally, Kathryn and her sister would have opted for a transport ship which was actually designed to carry passengers, but if they waited for a transport, Phoebe would miss the start of the semester.

That's how they ended up on the third week of a three-and-a-half week journey to a planet on the edge of the Alpha Quadrant with a six month pregnant Kathryn Janeway and her very ill sister, Phoebe.

"Oh, God, is this what morning sickness is like?" Phoebe's voice echoed as she raised her head out of waste bin. She sat on the shared bed of their tiny cabin, clutching onto the small bin as if it was a lifeline. They were lucky to get any sort of cabin at all and they knew it.

Kathryn, sitting next to her sister, chuckled, "I think this ship was constructed before inertial dampeners were invented. And no, my morning sickness wasn't as bad as this. I was only ill in the morning, hence the name. You've been sick morning, noon and night."

"Ugh. How can you stand this? You haven't been affected by this horrible trip at all."

"Phoebe, I lived on a ship pretty much nonstop for seven years. In fact I used to have the opposite problem. When we first arrived on Earth, I couldn't get a decent night's sleep for the first three weeks. Every night when my head hit the pillow, the world started spinning off its axis. I couldn't sleep without constant movement."

"Well, tell my nephew that I loved him and I'm sorry that I died before he was born."

"Drama queen! We'll be there in only five more days." Kathryn patted Phoebe's back sympathetically as she rose. "I'll try and see if I can find the ship's doctor. Maybe, she'll give me something for your nausea."

 **####**

The planet wasn't what Kathryn expected. She expected it to be war ravished, completely devastated and stripped of its natural resources by the evil Cardassians. Instead she found a thriving metropolis with a bustling economy and a mix of so many races it made Earth look xenophobic. Ropal City, where the University was located, was quite beautiful with well planned infrastructure and green spaces.

"Well," started Phoebe, "this is certainly…" Her eyes swept the expanse of low ceiled whitewashed walls and beige tiled flooring and she sighed dramatically, "... utilitarian."

"I like it," Kathryn said as she examined the small living room, bedrooms and kitchen. "It has a replicator."

"But this is an art school and this place has no sense of style at all."

"Come on, Phebes. Think of it as a blank canvas. You can make it your own."

"I suppose."

Kathryn smiled. She could already see the gears turning in Phoebe's mind. She would do great things with this place.

 **####**

Tom entered the mediation room and saw B'Elanna sitting next to her lawyer. This wasn't how things were supposed to end up. He thought his reunion with B'Elanna would be a happy one.

She had found her mother. Unfortunately, their time together was cut short when Miral Torres was mortally wounded by a wild animal in the wilderness of the planet Boreth.

Tom had received the petition for divorce and the subsequent summons for a custody mediation a short time later. He agreed to the divorce; however, he was going to fight for custody of his daughter with every bone in his body.

As he entered the room, he was shocked to see how B'Elanna had changed in only four short months. She had let her hair grow longer and it looked wild and beautiful. She was wearing tradition Klingon clothes, but not battle armor pe se. She wore a tight fitting gray dress with an intricate pattern of webbing, suggestive of chainmail. She looked glorious, but she didn't look like the B'Elanna he had spent the last seven years learning to love.

Tom was torn over his feelings for her. He wanted so badly to go to her, to take her in his arms and tell her how sorry he was … for everything. He wanted to sit beside her and watch holos of Miral over the past four months, sharing all the unexpected things she had done. He wanted to tell her he loved her and wanted them to be a family again.

Now she refused to meet his eyes, instead focusing completely on her own hands, clasped tightly together on the table.

Tom drew in a steadying breath as he and his mother moved to the opposite side of the large mediation table and sat next to Tom's lawyer.

Moments later they all rose as a rotund Bolian man entered the room and sat at the head of the table.

"Good afternoon, I'm Orland Lalin and I have been assigned by the Federation Family Court to meditate the issue now before us. Before we begin, allow me to explain my role here." The Bolian had an overly large bifurcating ridge running vertically along the center of his head. His skin was unusual for his species, being a pale blue-gray, as opposed to the vivid blue of their old crewmate, Chell. Perhaps his odd coloring had something to do with his age as he appeared to be quite elderly. Also, he wore ancient looking half-moon reading glasses, perched delicately on the tip of his nose which caused Tom to like him instantly.

He continued, "The claimant, B'Elanna, daughter of Miral, and the defendant, Thomas Eugene Paris have agreed to mediation in the matter of parental custody of the infant, Miral Paris. It should be noted at this time that B'Elanna, a full citizen of the Klingon Empire, has agreed to allow Federation mediation in this custody matter."

 _Daughter of Miral? Full citizen? When had B'Elanna given up her Federation citizenship?_

"Once both parties have entered into discussion, it is hoped that they will reach a mutually satisfying resolution. Should they fail to do so, I will weigh the testimony of both parties and render a final decision, which will then be filed with the family court.

"By agreeing to this mediation, both parties waive their claim to any further action by the court. The final decision made here will not subject to appeal.

"Do both parties understand everything I have just said?"

B'Elanna was quick to answer, "Yes, Your Honor."

Tom followed with his own, "Yes, sir, Your Honor, sir." Julia squeezed his hand in a supportive gesture. Her hand just felt and clammy and cold to Tom and offered him no support.

"Before we start, I'd like to ask Mr. Paris a question." At Tom's nod, he continued, "Where is your daughter?"

"My sister, Kathleen, is watching her at my parent's house."

"The only home she's ever known," added Julia, unsolicited.

"You understand that if at the end of this mediation, it is determined that Miral Paris would benefit being raised by her mother, that you will be required to relinquish her immediately."

Tom started to nod, but his mother cut in.

"That won't happen," snapped Julia. "I-I mean, I believe we will show that Miral belongs with her family, here on Earth."

"Answer the question, Mr. Paris," insisted the mediator.

Tom nodded.

"Let us begin," grumbled the unimpressed Bolian.

"B'Elanna, were this a trial, you would address yourself to a judge, perhaps me before my retirement," he added, his face alight in a small smile which immediately reminded Tom of Chell. Bolians really were a congenial people. He continued, "It's not. The point of this mediation is for you and your ex-husband to resolve your differences. With that in mind, I ask that you open a dialogue with your ex-husband with that in mind."

"Thank you, your Honor," B'Elanna said stiffly. "I want you to know how seriously it grieves me to be forced to make this claim."

Tom found himself nodding automatically. Everything in him found himself wanting to make this as easy as possible for B'Elanna.

"When I married Tom, I thought it would be forever, but I was mistaken. We saw a lot in the Delta Quadrant, and since we've come back, our lives have gone in different directions. We've grown apart…"

"That's because you left!" exclaimed Tom's mom.

"Mom, please."

"Mrs. Paris, please try to restrain yourself or I will be forced to ask you to leave the room." Lalin's voice brokered no debate.

Julia nodded tightly and wisely decided to say nothing.

"Continue, B'Elanna."

"Yes, I did leave because I needed to find my mother, my Klingon mother. I found her … and I also found myself. My father is human and my mother, Klingon. I grew up hating my Klingon heritage, hating the way I looked. Where I grew up, I was the only Klingon; people were always staring at me. Other kids made fun of my cranial ridges. I don't want my daughter to hate herself. I want to show her how beautiful and honorable being Klingon can be.

"Tom, I know you may want to raise Miral in a species-blind environment and you think you can protect her with your humanness, but this veil of human privilege will not help her in the end.

"I know Miral will grow up a happier person if she grows up with me on Qo'noS, among her own people."

Turning fully to Tom, she added, "Tom, you know I love Miral and I only want the best for her. If you cannot agree to my request, I'm afraid we'll have leave it to the mediator to decide what's in Miral's best interest."

B'Elanna straightened her back and turn back toward the mediator.

Tom wasn't sure when his compassion for B'Elanna had vanished, but by the time she had finished, it was gone.

He looked at the kind-hearted Bolian and said, a little too forcefully, "She's wrong!"

"Don't tell me, Mr. Paris. Tell you ex-wife," urged Lelan, his voice as even as a Vulcan's.

Tom turned his entire body towards B'Elanna.

"You're wrong! Earth is a multicultural society. This isn't the tiny colony you grew up in. This is San Francisco. She's more likely to be abused for being too human on Qo'noS, then too Klingon on Earth. She's three quarters human, afterall."

"Don't give me that, Tom. You know how cruel children can be. You may not want to admit it, but even in your perfect little Federation world, the one-drop doctrine still holds. One drop of non-human blood and the child is non-human."

"Times have changed, B'Elanna."

"Well, you haven't have you, Tom?" She leaned back in her seat and waited.

"Care to explain that statement?"

"We both know your history." There was venom in her voice. "You grew up in a completely dysfunctional family where your parents always expected more out of you than could deliver. They made you feel like a failure your entire life." Her voice softened slightly when she added, "Remember telling me that you spent most of your teenage years crying? Hell, Tom, you didn't even want to join Starfleet, did you?"

At that revelation, Julia Paris stared curiously at her only son.

"You loved the sea. You wanted with all your heart to join the Federation Naval Patrol. But, oh no, your father had other plans for you. You were going to continue the stellar Paris family tradition, become another Starfleet Admiral to add to their brag wall. Well, how'd that turn out for you?"

Tom's eyes were shining with tears. He hated his reaction to her summary of his life.

"Why are you doing this, B'Elanna?"

"Because I don't want my daughter to be raised in the great Paris household. That's why? And…"

 _And?_

"You're not trustworthy. A Klingon would never lie as much as you have in your life. You've always avoided the consequences of your actions by lying. You've lied your entire life. You've lied to me."

She let that statement hang in the air for an indeterminable amount of time before whispering menacingly, "I know you still love _her_."

Tom felt his mother stiffen behind him. He said nothing. There was nothing to say because B'Elanna was absolutely right.

 **TBC**

Author's notes:

Wow, after that, I might even give Miral to B'Elanna. I think she has some pretty convincing arguments.

The mediation scene is borrowed heavily from Acts of Contrition by Kirsten Beyer except I've changed the players to meet my evil designs.


	9. Chapter 9

**Souvenir**

 **Endgame Redux**

 _ **A Star Trek: Voyager fanfiction**_

 **by**

 **CanonAntithesis**

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

 **Chapter 9**

"I don't understand the Federation. They're a bunch of idiots!"

Janeway flung the PADD she was holding onto the kitchen counter with such force that it skidded across the smooth surface and crashed with a loud smack on the tile floor. Phoebe picked up the device and looked down at the cracked screen.

"You've broken another one, Kathryn. That's the third this month." She looked up at her sister and couldn't hide the smirk on her lips.

"What?" the diminutive red-head barked.

"You and your command stance." Phoebe's smirk bubbled into a giggle. Kathryn glared at her. "Oh, Katie… The whole hands on the hips thing doesn't work when you can't see your hips because of that huge belly. That's what!"

Kathryn's brow knitted for a second and she looked down at herself. She was standing with her feet shoulder width apart, with her hands planted firmly on her hips … or where her hips were eight and a half months ago. She had defeated many a Delta Quadrant enemy in large part due to this intimidating stance and it was disconcerting to see that it was gone.

She sighed and started giggling herself. If you couldn't laugh at yourself, who could you laugh at? Their giggles soon turned into full fledged belly laughs and the Janeway sisters flopped onto the middle of the sofa, trying to catch their breaths.

"Damn, Phebes. I don't even know how that happened. I don't remember moving my hands."

Wiping away her tears of laughter, Phoebe replied, "It's your captain's instinct. Whether you're still wearing the uniform or not, you're still a captain."

"I'm so glad I resigned my commission before I started showing. Have you ever seen the Starfleet maternity uniform? It's like a shapeless cloth sack with pips." Shaking her head in humor, she continued, "Absolutely humiliating."

Kathryn paused to blink against the backdrop of the constantly changing wall colors of Phoebe's living room. A few minutes ago it was black, then purple, then blue. Now it had altered to a nauseating pink.

"Phoebe, I think your decorating is bringing back my morning sickness."

"ChromaMood picks up the emotions of the people in the room and changes color accordingly." Phoebe raised a finger as she lapsed into full on professor mode. "It's not my fault that your moods rotate like a warp drive assembly."

Phoebe's faculty apartment looked nothing like it did when they moved in four months ago. She reupholstered the sofa in a soft blue material which regulated its own temperature in accordance with the person sitting upon it. She hung some of her more unique and portable pieces of art on the walls. Her larger creations were installed in the small courtyard because they wouldn't fit through the door. Kathryn knew she spent too much time trying to understand the meaning of Phoebe's art and just decided to enjoy it as it was.

The walls were painted with a new paint called ChromaMood which sensed changing emotions and transformed the color of the wall to match. Black for when Kathryn was angry; pink when she was happy. Phoebe claimed that it helped her gauge how to react to Kathryn's volatile personality. Kathryn claimed it just gave her a headache.

Phoebe took a deep breath before trying to bring the conversation back on track. "What's the Federation done now?"

"What?" Kathryn asked in honest confusion.

Phoebe waved the broken PADD in front of her face.

"Oh, sometimes I think this baby is sucking out my brain cells. The Federation claims that the Volan Colonies can't become a member world until they've sorted through all the property disputes resulting from the Cardassian take-over of the planet."

"That seems reasonable. I mean if Cardassia took my house, I'd want it back."

"They want to give your house to the Cardassian colonist who moved in when the Federation gave this planet to Cardassia. Not the other way around. They think it will help smooth relations with those poor Cardassian refugees. I'm not saying it's not a valid point, I mean there are two sides to every argument, but it will take years, maybe scores of years, to determine the true owners. Volan III simply doesn't have the resources to pursue this. Many of the records don't exist anymore.

"If the Federation would allow Volan III to become a member world first, even provisionally, the Federation could provide the needed resources to resolve the problems."

"That sounds reasonable too. So when do you leave?"

"Leave? I can't go anywhere, Phoebe. I'm due in two weeks."

"Uh-huh. So when do you leave?"

Kathryn sighed. Her sister knew her too well.

"Tomorrow morning. But it's only a short shuttle flight to one of the moons of Volan II. I'm just the science advisor. I probably won't even do anything while I'm there."

"Sure you won't."

 **####**

"Kathryn," a smiling Jake Robinson called from the open door of the awaiting shuttlecraft. "I was afraid you weren't going to make it."

Jake was tall, about the same height as Chakotay, with light brown hair and soulful brown eyes. In fact if Kathryn hadn't had other more important priorities in her life right now, she could see herself becoming attracted to him.

They met a few months ago at Volan III's version of a townhall meeting. He was trying to run the meeting, but what they really needed was a referee. That's where Kathryn stepped in and she quickly became fast friends. A biology professor, Jake moved to Ropal City after the war to make a fresh start away from the crowded planets closer to Earth and to share his love of biology with young minds. He never thought of himself as political but he couldn't stand by and do nothing when there was a problem to be solved. Kathryn admired that about him.

Kathryn shuffled toward the shuttle as quickly as she could under her present circumstances. She had awoken with a nagging lower backache and would have stayed in bed all day if she hadn't already committed herself to this meeting. Plus, she skipped breakfast because on top of the backache, her stomach wasn't feeling all that great either.

Yep, this would have been a good day to stay in bed.

"I wouldn't miss this for world, Jake."

"Thank goodness, because I don't think we have a chance without your guidance. You just seem to have a knack for getting things done."

The flight to Volan II's moon was uneventful except for Kathryn's increasing lower back pain. The shuttle's hard seats weren't helping. After landing she and the rest of the delegation were ushered into the conference room where they were introduced to the Federation's representatives.

She felt the blood drain from her face when she saw the representative from Starfleet.

"Katie Janeway, where the hell have you been?"

"So good to see you again." Kathryn lied through her teeth as she plastered on a patently false grin. "Admiral Paris."

 **####**

Owen tried to hide his shock.

Katie Janeway stood before him, bigger than life, quite literally, and heavily pregnant. She wore a black dress which stretched tightly over her large belly and a long black, white and green checked knee-length cardigan sweater meant to soften the impact of that belly. Black leggings and sensible flats completed her outfit.

 _Lord, that woman is short without those Starfleet boots to give her the extra height._

Her hair was longer than when he'd last seen her. It looked fuller too, quite beautiful actually. Her face was fuller also, but Owen had always thought she was too thin, too angular. Pregnancy had softened her. And as cliche as it sounded, she glowed. He knew it had something to do with hormones, but Kathryn Janeway was more beautiful today than he'd ever seen her before.

"My God, Kathryn. What are you doing here?" Owen asked while giving her an awkward one armed hug, trying to not to make contact with her burgeoning belly.

"Same as you, Admiral. I'm here to make sure the Volan system gets a fair representation in its bid for entry into the Federation."

Kathryn Janeway sounded just as commanding and intimidating as ever, but she looked nothing like the Voyager Captain who had blasted into the Alpha Quadrant in such a spectacular manner only seven months ago.

Obviously in late pregnancy, it took her a while to walk over to the large conference table. Owen had been trying to contact his former protege ever since he found out she resigned her Starfleet commission. It was his second biggest shock this year. The first was when Voyager emerged from the debris field of a Borg sphere into the heart of the Alpha Quadrant. And now, his third was seeing Kathryn Janeway waddle across the room.

However, looking at her now, he wasn't sure about anything except that he was going to rake that deplorable former first officer of hers, Chakotay, over the coals the next time he saw him. She looked like she was about ready to give birth which meant she was pregnant when Voyager got back home, which meant the father was likely that damn Maquis she was sent to capture. He always thought they had grown a little too close.

Owen held out a chair and she slowly lowered herself into it with a grimace.

"I meant, how did you get to Volan III?" he pressed. "It's not exactly the center of civilization."

"I needed a break from Earth. Too much notoriety. Besides, I think I'm finding my niche here. They need me." She pulled out her PADD and quickly scanned her notes to prepare for the start of the meeting.

He wanted to tell her that she was needed on Earth too. Several of her former crew had contacted him to try and find her, to no avail. His own son and daughter-in-law had been at the top of that list. However, that was not a conversation to have in such a public arena, so instead he asked her something innocuous.

"Are you okay, Katie? Can I get you something before we start?" Paris sounded like a solicitous parent.

"No, thank you. I'm fine."

 _I'm fine_ – Owen Paris had known Kathryn Janeway since she was a child. That was her answer for everything. She looked tired.

Introductions were made around the table. Robinson and Janeway from Volan III sat next to two delegates from Volan II. The Federation sent two officials, Blakely and T'Mumba. While he had never met T'Mumba, Blakely was a first class bitch and Owen wasn't looking forward to dealing her during these negotiations.

"Let's begin."

"Excellent, Admiral," began Anita Blakely. She sounded like she didn't appreciate the personal banter between Owen and Kathryn Janeway. "I'll get right to it. As you know, the Federation will accept the Volan system's petition for membership as soon as they complete the required reparations."

"But how do you expect Volan to do that without the financial backing of the Federation?" Robinson asked, pointedly. "We don't have the resources. The Dominion War left us with very little capital."

"The Dominion War was financially devastating to everyone," T'Mumba put in with a deep gravely voice.

"Then why insist on that requirement at all?" Kathryn shifted in her seat while absentmindedly pressing her palm into the small of her back. "It doesn't make sense. We agree that reparations are the right thing to do, but not until there are some funds to work with."

"What about Volan III's mizinite deposits?" asked T'Mumba. "Don't the mines produce enough capital to help?"

"Those mines were practically stripped bare by the Dominion during the war. Besides, that ore is most valuable to the Dominion themselves. It's their warships that use it, not the Federation's."

"But there is another issue with the mines," added Robinson.

All eyes turned to him when he paused.

"Orion smugglers. The ore that's left is subject to constant raids by Orion smugglers. It's becoming more and more of an issue and frankly, I'm worried that their smuggling activities might escalate into more aggressive behavior."

"Jake Robinson," Blakely said slowly. "You're a …" she ran her thumb over her PADD, searching for something, "... biology professor."

"That's right."

"And this qualifies you to lecture us about the Orion Syndicate?"

"I didn't realize that telling the truth was looked down upon in the Federation."

Before a more heated discussion could ensue, an explosion rocked the room. Owen struggled to stay upright and heard muffled shouts coming from the corridor.

A security officer burst into the room. "We have a situation. Everyone needs to come with me quickly. We're evacuating you to a safe location."

Robinson and Owen helped Janeway rise and they headed to the exit along with everyone else. Owen heard Janeway curse in frustration as they were outpaced by the rest of the delegates. They were almost to the door when more explosions and phaser fire sounded, closer this time, and the three of them were driven back into the room. The door slid shut just as the lights went out momentarily before the dim red glow of emergency lighting snapped on.

"Oh hell," groaned Kathryn. "We're on lockdown."

"That means we're trapped here?" asked Robinson in a shaky voice.

Owen guided Kathryn back to the conference table, answering Robinson as they walked. "Yes. It's the automatic security protocols. No one can get in or out."

"Admiral Paris to Security," he tapped his combadge, but received no response.

"Combadges are blocked," Kathryn said. "The signals emitted from a badge can be used to track you, so that was added to the lockdown procedures about five months ago."

"How long are we going to be here?"

"Hard to say. Depends who's trying to disrupt our meeting and what their agenda is. I hope the others made it to safety."

Robinson, who was leaning against a wall next to the locked door, slowly slid down until he hit the floor. Owen looked toward him and noticed the man was holding his right arm against his chest.

Janeway must have noticed it too because she was the first to speak.

"Jake, are you alright?"

She rose with much effort and waddled over to the man, awkwardly dropping to her knees to take a look at his arm.

As stoically as a Vulcan, Robinson replied, "I think I've been hit."

"Admiral, see if you can get the lights back up and bring me the medkit."

Owen quickly ran over to a panel near to the door and found a switch to deactivate the emergency lighting and bring the light level up to normal. He also retrieved the standard medkit stored there and joined Janeway and Robinson.

Janeway spoke smoothly and calmly, "Don't worry, Jake. Your arm's burned from a phaser blast, but we can fix you up in just a few minutes. First, let's get this jacket off, okay?"

He screamed when she started to peel the jacket off his arm and brought some of his singed flesh with it. The wound was deep, searing his skin from his shoulder to below his elbow.

To Admiral Paris, she ordered, "I need a hypospray with 3cc of tripdecederine before we go any further. We've got to get his pain under control."

Owen opened the medkit and did a quick visual inventory: medical tricorder, PADD, dermal regenerator, hypospray. He quickly pulled out the hypospray and dialed it to the prescribed painkiller, passing it to Kathryn. She quickly pressed it to Jake's neck. The injured man visibly relaxed and closed his eyes.

"Thank you," escaped in a relieved whisper.

Kathryn handed Owen back the hypospray and pressed both of her hands to her lower back, arching her spine and groaning low in her throat.

"Katie?" Owen asked, "Are you alright?" He laid a hand on her shoulder and noticed how tense her muscles were.

"I'm fine. Just a backache. Give me the dermal regenerator, please. This is going to take awhile. Looks like third degree burns."

While Kathryn worked on Robinson's burned arm, Owen pulled out the medical tricorder and ran it over the man to assess any other injuries and to monitor Janeway's progress on healing the burn.

"I think that's his only injury, but it's quite serious. You're doing a great job, Kathryn," Owen commented as he waved the tricorder back and forth.

The tricorder emitted a loud beep which caused Paris to lift his eyebrows in surprise when he looked at the screen. He looked more closely at his former protégé. Janeway looked pale and there was a thin bead of perspiration on her upper lip.

"I've healed as much as I can here, Jake. This is beyond the capabilities of this mobile regenerator. You really need a fully staffed hospital. We'll cover the wound with sterile gauze to protect it, but that's about all I can do for now."

"Thank you, Kathryn. You're a lifesaver."

"We have enough pain meds to keep you comfortable until help comes. Just lie here and try to rest." She patted his hand reassuringly.

Kathryn took the man's jacket and put it under the his head to use as a pillow. Then placing her hands on her knees, she tried to stand.

"Here let me," offered Owen as, with much effort, he hauled her to her feet. "I think you should sit down now, Katie."

"I'm fi…"

"You're in labor." He held the tricorder out for her to see as she settled heavily on a seat.

She took the tricorder from him with a shaky hand and stared at the screen. "That can't be right. It's just a backache. My back's been hurting for months. This is no diff…"

An agonized groan ripped itself from Kathryn's throat and she looked down at the floor, her pale face flushing with embarrassment. There was a gathering puddle surrounding Kathryn's chair.

"I think my water just broke," she whispered, disbelief in her voice.

TBC

Author's Notes:

Dang it! I was **not** going to do a long drawn out childbirth chapter, but things just went sideways and here she blows.

So this chapter was sort of challenging because, I don't know if you guys realized, the whole section at the space station is from Adm Paris' POV. Should make the actual birth very interesting.


	10. Chapter 10

**Souvenir**

 **Endgame Redux**

 _ **A Star Trek: Voyager fanfiction**_

 **by**

 **CanonAntithesis**

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

" _I think my water just broke," she whispered, disbelief in her voice._

 **Chapter 10**

"Maybe you should lie down," Owen suggested cautiously.

Instead she stood and started to pace, albeit quite slowly.

"I can't have a baby here. We need to get out."

She looked panicked, more so than when she was an ensign and they had just been captured by the Cardassians. Janeway walked over to the door panel and tried to open it. Nothing happened.

"Calm down, Katie," Owen soothed. "First babies take an extraordinarily long amount of time to come. I'm sure they'll have the door open before too long."

She whirled on him. "You don't understand, Admiral. I have a plan and this isn't part of it. I'm going to have my baby with my sister, Phoebe, in attendance.

"In a **BATHTUB** ,

"with candles,

"and soft music.

"It's all planned and it's going to be beautiful and perfect."

Her voice was shaking and she was nearly in tears by the time she finished explaining her ideal scenario, but her voice hardened when she added,

"And it's not going to happen **here**!"

 **####**

"I _really_ think you should sit down," suggested Owen for the tenth time. She was making him tired just watching her.

Kathryn had been slowly walking the perimeter of the room for the past three hours, stopping only briefly when she would squeeze her eyes shut, hum to herself, and grip the nearest chair until her knuckles turned white.

She had finally agreed to remove her wet leggings about two hours ago. Her dress was long, so losing the pants caused no embarrassment. Plus, if this went on much longer, embarrassment would be the least of her problems.

"Alright, Kathryn, try this," Jake read from the medkit PADD from his prone position on the floor. "Can you get onto your knees?" At her terse nod, he continued, "Good. Get on all fours and arch your back."

Their eyes met and Owen thought for a moment she was going to berate Robinson for his suggestion, like she had for the other five ideas he had read to her in the last two hours. Instead, her eyes suddenly closed and she grimaced as another contraction hit her.

After about a minute, her features relaxed and she replied in a breathy voice, "Okay, I'll try anything."

As she arched her back, she sighed. This time in relief.

"This is actually helping."

"You're experiencing back labor," Robinson said as he scanned for more information on the PADD. "It's supposed to be the most painful kind."

"Wonderful."

"Now, Admiral Paris, you need to massage her lower back … sir," Robinson added when he saw the uncomfortable look Owen was giving him.

Owen slowly eased himself down to the floor and started to tentatively rub Kathryn's back.

"That feels good. Don't stop, please."

"It says we should distract her, like talk about other things to keep her mind off the pain."

Kathryn looked over at Robinson from her unprofessional position on the floor. "Maybe it would be more effective if you hadn't just told _her_ your brilliant plan for helping…" Before she could scold him further, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. "Oh God! This hurts." She dropped down to her elbows with a grunt.

"Keep breathing, Kathryn," Robinson encouraged. "Nice and slow, in and out."

"Shut up!" she growled back at him when she could talk again. "I know how to breath."

Owen backed away from the laboring woman. He remembered that much from his own wife's labors. They could be vicious when they were in pain.

"I need to lie down. My arms … are tired." She flopped down onto her side, facing away from the admiral and toward Robinson.

"Katie, dear. Let me give you some tripdecederine for the pain."

She glanced over at Robinson before answering quietly. "You know I can't do that, Admiral. There's barely enough for Jake. I can make do. He can't."

Owen sighed, but knew there was no arguing with her.

Slowly, he placed his hand on her back again. "Is this okay, Katie?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Do you know what it is? A boy or a girl?"

"I'm having a boy." Kathryn managed a proud smile. "Y'know, for a man who's experienced this three times, you're pretty lousy at it," she grunted.

Owen chuckled. "That was over thirty years ago. One's mind tends to block out the really traumatizing events in one's life. Too bad Tom isn't here."

She tensed and he thought another contraction had started, but her back wasn't arched like before, so he relaxed and continued. "I mean he went through labor with B'Elanna, right?"

"Actually, no. He was piloting Voyager through that Borg transwarp conduit. He missed it. Guess that was my fault," she bemoaned.

"Funny how things come full circle. I wasn't there for Tom's birth either. Starfleet obligations."

"Figures. I'm glad I quit."

"Don't tell anyone I said this, Katie, but I think it'll be good for you and your child to not be in Starfleet. I'm glad Tom resigned too."

"Tom resigned?" she asked, disbelief in her voice, and then, "And you're happy about it? When did the world turn on its axis, Admiral?"

"I've been doing a lot of thinking since I've become a grandfather. It has a way of putting things into perspective. I've been too hard on Tom, put too much pressure on him."

Paris almost went on to explain how rough life had been for his only son with a new baby in the house, especially since his wife left to go on some fool's errand to find her dead, not dead, mother. After a single shameful night of drunken idiocy, and some unkind words on Owen's part, Tom had pulled the tattered remnants of his life together for the sake of little Miral.

He decided to resign his commission soon after B'Elanna left. Now that he was facing divorce and child custody, Owen had no idea how Tom was holding up. The custody mediation was happened right now and he was anxious to hear how it turned out.

It seemed to Owen that his son was immensely sad, from more than just losing his wife, but he refused to discuss it with him. Of course, Owen didn't have such a great track record of being able to talk to his son in the best of times.

Owen decided against telling Katie all these distressing details. He didn't want her to worry about Tom at a time like this since he knew how much she cared for her former crew.

"But he's okay? Tom, I mean. He's happy?" Kathryn rolled onto her back so she could see Owen's face.

"Never better," Owen lied, but then countered with the absolute truth. "He loves Miral very much."

She nodded slightly and closed her eyes. Owen was afraid another contraction had started, but instead her face relaxed and he heard her whisper to herself, "She was right and I did promise."

####

That was how they spent the next few hours. Owen told Kathryn tales of Miral, about her eating her first solid foods, learning to crawl, trying and failing to walk, and the inevitable temper tantrums thereof. He told her about how overprotective Tom was, placing foam protectors on every hard surface in the house. And the fact that he never mentioned B'Elanna in any of his narrative never came up.

"I swear that boy would cushion the entire universe if he could."

Jake Robinson read the PADD to them on what to expect until Kathryn finally screamed at him to just shut up.

Kathryn, for her part, alternated between demanding a back massage and cursing the admiral's existence for touching her.

Finally, Owen ran the tricorder over Kathryn's abdomen and announced that it was time to push.

With Robinson positioned behind her with Kathryn leaning against his chest, but well away from his injured arm, Owen reluctantly took his position at her covered and bent knees.

"Kathryn…" His reluctance was audible.

"Oh hell, Admiral, I have no modesty left. Do what you need to do. I just want it to be over."

Robinson, who had spent the past few hours memorizing the birthing procedure, issued his instructions to the layman obstetrician. "Alright, Admiral,..."

Owen interrupted, "I think you should both call me Owen in anticipation of what's about to happen. We're familiar enough for first names." He removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves in preparation.

"Alright, Owen…" Robinson smirked a little, "you should watch for a head to appear when she pushes."

"A head?" Owen reluctantly pushed Kathryn's dress up over her knees. "Oh, Lord."

"That's right. It should look like a hairy coconut. And Kathryn, now's your chance. I know you've been wanting to push, so when the next contraction starts, bear down with all your might."

"Oh, God…" Kathryn screamed as she pushed for all she was worth.

After a dozen or more contractions, Owen called out, "I-I see it!" He looked astonished and then immediately disappointed, "but it's gone now. It went back up." His face clearly showed panic.

"That's normal. Each time she pushes it'll come down a little more until it crowns."

"Aarrrgh!"

Countless contractions, screams, tears and curses later, Robinson announced from his position at Kathryn's head, that she should only require one final push. Owen had no idea how the man could make such an announcement considering he was the one who could actually see what was happening and it wasn't pretty.

Why on earth a woman would do this more than once was beyond him. But he was sure of one thing after today's experience: when he got back home he was going to tell his wife, Julia, how much he loved her and appreciated her. He hadn't done that enough in his life.

"Alright, Kathryn, you've got to trust me," Owen said with false confidence.

She was sagging against Robinson's chest and he had his good arm braced in front of her, pressing her to him. Owen could see the angry red half-moons cut into the man's arm where she had dug her nails into his skin. Kathryn looked completely exhausted with her hair sweat-plastered against her red face.

"Promise me this is the last one."

The admiral looked to Robinson for confirmation and he nodded, so Owen went with it. "I promise, now come on, one last big push…"

"Auggghhh!" she screamed like a wounded animal as she bore down, her face bright red with the effort.

"That's wonderful, Kathryn. Now do that same thing again." This advice came from Robinson who looked like he was enduring his own share of pain.

"You lied! Damn you!" Kathryn sobbed.

"One more."

"You said that the last time!" she spat and then pushed with all her might.

"The head's out!" Owen shouted. "Robinson! What the hell do I do now?"

"Kathryn, stop pushing." She instantly collapsed back against Robinson's chest, completely limp. "Owen, if his head's fully out, ease his shoulders out slowly, one at a time."

"Okay, I can do that." Owen was sweating almost as much as Kathryn.

He could only see the back of the head as the baby was facing down. Using both hands, he pulled gently and this bloody reedy thing slid out of his mother's body.

Owen was hit with an emotion, so strong, it threatened to completely overwhelm him. He must be getting soft in his old age because he couldn't remember these feelings when his daughters were delivered. He was happy, of course, but it wasn't with this all consuming intensity.

He carefully turned the little body over with all the reverence he could muster and baby Janeway looked up at the old man with the largest, most startled eyes he had ever seen.

"Oh, Kathryn, he's gorgeous."

Just before the tears in Owen's own eyes threatened to cloud his vision, he thought to himself, _I know you_.

Just then, the newborn let out his first thready wail.

"Oh…Oh, my," Kathryn sat up to see her son, her exhaustion forgotten. "Please…"

She held her hands out for the baby. Owen wrapped the squirming bloody little guy, still attached to his umbilical cord, in his discarded jacket.

As he placed the baby in his mother's arms, Janeway gasped, "Oh, God, he's perfect." Her hands were shaking as she gently stroked his head.

"You did good Kathryn," Robertson crooned, his eyes glistening with happy tears.

Before the admiral could offer his own congratulations, the door burst open and a security detail announced that the crisis was over; the base had been secured. Kathryn and son were immediately beamed to the sickbay on board the USS Discovery where the placenta could be delivered and the newest member of the Janeway family properly examined.

TBC

Author's Note:

Well, at least she didn't give birth in a turbolift or a shuttlecraft.

Again, please notice that this whole chapter was from Owen's POV.

Finally… and I'd like credit for this one, please. The Doctor DID NOT deliver this baby, nor did Drs. Bashir, Crusher or even, Pulanski. Am I the only one who's noticed that there are only four medical doctors in all of Starfleet?

And, of course, Bones, but he's retired and over 100 years old.


	11. Chapter 11

**Souvenir**

 **Endgame Redux**

 _ **A Star Trek: Voyager fanfiction**_

 **by**

 **CanonAntithesis**

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

 **Chapter 11**

The first day of mediation ended with the two parties nowhere near a potential compromise.

The hour before the next session was scheduled to start found Tom Paris sitting in a small cafe, five minutes from the mediation chamber. He was staring blankly at his now cold cup of coffee. Thankfully, he had convinced his mom to stay home with Miral today. Honestly he didn't think she was helping his case. Her emotional outbursts yesterday seemed to rankle their mediator and it took alot to rankle a Bolian.

He was worried and it was affecting everything. He wasn't eating; he wasn't sleeping. Last night, Tom had a disturbing dream where Miral was calling to him from the other end of a long dark tunnel. He kept trying to reach her, but he couldn't. The baby only babbled in real life, but in his nightmare, she had clearly called out for her daddy.

Someone slid into the seat across from him and Tom didn't even bother to acknowledge the man's presence.

"I know this isn't easy." His lawyer's voice spilled out like silk and Tom was immediately reminded of old southern lawyer stereotypes from some of his favorite black and white movies. He also remembered that those guys usually lost their cases. To complete the cliché, Marvin Hyatt wore an all white linen-like suit and had the bushy white mustache to match. He was being represented by Mark Twain.

"She's winning," Tom stated slowly, bringing voice to his greatest fear.

"Are you a lawyer now?" asked Hyatt. "You don't know that, son."

"She's winning because she's right."

A dry chuckle caused Tom to snap his attention to the old man.

"See, if you were a lawyer, you'd know that doesn't matter."

"I try to do the right thing. I try to follow orders. I try to live up to my own expectations, now that I know how good it feels to meet those. But she's right: Too many times in my life, I've come up against problems that the truth won't solve. I have to do what my conscience or my heart demands and damn the consequences."

"Everybody does that, Tom."

"Maybe, but not everybody ends up in jail or in the brig for thirty days or sitting across the table from their ex-wife who's trying to rip their heart out. It's like a have a special gift for screwing things up."

"The fact that you've chosen to raise your daughter is laudable. The only problem is that it's just that it's come at the end of a lot of other questionable decisions."

Upon entering the mediation chamber, Tom was struck by how calm B'Elanna appeared. She must have started some sort of Vulcan meditation class because this was not the B'Elanna he knew on Voyager. She was a impetuous, easily angered and prone to violence, but also passionate, full of life and loved a challenge. _This_ B'Elanna was completely unknown to him.

Lalin shuffled to the head of the table and took his seat. Peering down at his PADD through his anachronistic reading glasses, he sighed loudly before making eye contact with first B'Elanna and then, Tom.

"Did either of you intend on calling Mister John Torres to speak on your behalf?"

B'Elanna started to speak, but her attorney placed his hand atop hers and answered for her.

"No, Your Honor," he replied. "B'Elanna advised me that it was her wish that Mister Torres not be notified of these proceedings."

"As Miral's grandfather, he would have been included in all notifications from Family Court. Would either of you object to hearing from Mister Torres?"

Hyatt was quick to respond. "Mister Paris has no objection."

Tom said nothing, but he wasn't sure where this was going and it made him uneasy. He had only met the man once when they had first arrived back on Earth. He seemed like a pleasant enough man who was still trying to start a relationship with his daughter.

"Mister Torres is Miral's grandfather. B'Elanna has not enjoyed a close relationship with him for most of her life, but that doesn't change the fact that he is a part of this family. She believes we should hear what he has to say," added her attorney.

B'Elanna stared straight ahead, but Tom could see her jaw working furiously and he thought her Vulcan meditation techniques were starting to show some cracks.

"Very well," stated Lelan and John Torres was escorted into the room.

He looked like he had aged a lot in the past six months, but people would probably say the same about Tom. His hair was now more gray than not, but he still presented a slim and healthful appearance.

Torres sat down near the Lelan, in keeping with a neutral stance. At least that's what Tom was hoping it meant.

"Thank you for joining us, Mister Torres," announced Lelan. "I understand that you wish to address both parties in this matter?"

"I do," Torres answered softly. He had always on the soft-spoken side and Tom, not for the first time, wondered about what mutual attraction there might have been between B'Elanna's parents.

"My daughter is who she is because her mother and I made her that way. We were unable to create a home where she could thrive. The differences between us only grew larger and louder the longer we were together. It was painful to leave her, but I told myself it was in her best interest as well as my own.

"Looking back, I don't know if that was true. If B'Elanna has a hard time trusting people, even her family, it's because she learned, from me, that trust leads to disappointment. I know she's an adult now and is responsible for her own choices, I also know that the wounds we inflict on our children are permanent. They may learn to live with them. They may learn to overcome them. They may forgive them," he paused and looked hopefully to B'Elanna, but she continued to stare straight ahead, "but they can never be erased."

"I don't think Miral should be separated from her parents, but I understand that that ship has already sailed. She needs her father. She needs her mother. And if she can't have them together, then she deserves to have them both equally even if they aren't together anymore.

"I believe they both still love her greatly, even if their love for each other has faded."

John Torres finished and looked once to B'Elanna and then, to Tom. Tom smiled sadly at the older man. He realized that it had cost him to come here and put his heart on the line to have his say.

"Thank you for coming, Mister Torres," Lelan said congenially.

After Torres left, the Bolian turned to Tom and B'Elanna.

"Everything that you've said since this mediation has begun has been in the presence myself and your representatives. We're going to leave you alone now, for as long as you need. Nothing you say will be recorded or relayed to me. I want you two to talk to each other."

Hyatt nodded and whispered to Tom as he rose. "It's up to you, now. I believe in you, my boy."

"That makes one of us," mumbled Tom under his breath.

Hyatt laughed lightly and gave Tom's shoulder a warm squeeze.

Finally, they were alone.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Then, they both began to speak it the same time.

"Tom, I…"

"B'E…"

"Sorry, you go first," Tom nodded to his now, ex-wife.

B'Elanna smiled, despite herself.

"I know you don't understand this, but I really believe what I'm doing is the best thing for Miral."

"Well, that's where we have a problem because I believe that what I'm doing is the best thing for her," countered Tom.

"This isn't going to be easy is it?"

"Nothing's ever been easy between us, B'E."

B'Elanna nodded in agreement, but then completely altered the heading of their discussion. "Do you still love her?"

"Miral? Of course, I do. I've devoted my life to her."

"Not the baby, you p'tak! Janeway. Do you still love Janeway?" Her calm demeanor had boiled completely away.

Tom threw his hand in the air. "She has nothing to do with this, B'Elanna. It's between the two of us. I haven't seen her since before we docked at Earth."

"But you've thought about her, haven't you?"

"We're supposed to be discussing what's best for Miral, not Captain Janeway. I haven't had a lot of time to think about anyone else lately. I've been too busy being a parent, being both parents, actually."

"She resigned. She's not in Starfleet anymore."

This honestly surprised him. Tom was sure his dad must have known about it and he couldn't help wondering why Owen hadn't told him. Now, however, was not the time to ponder Kathryn Janeway.

"What is your point, B'Elanna?"

Spreading her arms in a generous gesture, she explained, "I'm just saying that if I have Miral, then you'd be free to go to Janeway. No responsibilities, no Starfleet, no baby, nothing to stand in your way."

"That's insane. I don't want that."

"You don't want Janeway? Are you so sure? Besides, how do you think she'd feel about a baby? Think she'd be interested in playing mommy to Miral? Because I don't. She's never seemed very maternal to me. I can't imagine Kathryn Janeway caring for a child, changing diapers, waking at all hours to take care of her."

"Miral's been sleeping through the night for almost three months now, B'Elanna."

But still… it made him think. What would Kathryn think of him now … and Miral?

 **####**

Kathryn couldn't look away. She knew she should be sleeping while her baby slept. All the parenting PADDs said so, but she was afraid if she closed her eyes, it would all be a dream.

He was perfect, from his oh, so tiny delicate little fingernails, to his tiny little wispy eyelashes, to his purplish, slightly transparent eyelids, to the wisps of blonde hair on his perfect little head.

Her son was perfect.

She felt a swelling of love so strong it threatened to overwhelm her. And she swore to a God that she really didn't believe in that she would always protect and watch over him until the day she died.

Baby Janeway was wearing a newly replicated onesie with a tiny Starfleet insignia embroidered over his heart, someone's idea of a joke, no doubt. However, Kathryn found it oddly endearing.

Looking at him now, she couldn't help but remember her future-self, Admiral Janeway, and the sacrifice she made for him. Oh, she knew the admiral said she was saving everyone, but in her heart, Kathryn knew she came back to save this precious little baby, her son. And to think, there was a time when she didn't even want him.

 _She vaguely heard the hiss of the hypospray being injected into her neck. But she felt nothing. Numb. She was completely numb._

" _What was that?" she intoned flatly to the Doctor._

" _Prenatal vitamins, Captain. As per usual, your level of essential nutrients is low. It's important at this stage of your pregnancy…"_

 _Janeway held up her hand to stop him._

" _That's not necessary, Doctor. I'm not keeping it. I'd like to schedule an … I'd like to have it taken care of as soon as possible."_

 _He looked disappointed in her. Although she wasn't sure if it was because she wanted to end the pregnancy or because she was pregnant in the first place._

" _Of course, Captain. If you're sure that's what you want to do."_

" _Yes, I'm sure. Even if I wanted to keep … it, I can't. I mean Tom and I… Oh, God…" She buried her head in her hands in a very uncaptainlike move._

 _The Doctor placed his hand on her shoulder in a gesture of compassion._

" _While I can't begin to understand the intricacies of the human heart, I think I do understand the intricacies of this crew and if this is the decision you need to make, I will stand by you."_

" _Thank you, Doctor."_

Kathryn wiped away a stray tear. Her son was starting to stir and she brushed her finger against his soft cheek. He instinctively turned his head toward his mother's finger, opened his mouth and pressed his face into her hand.

She brought him to her breast, wincing slightly as she leaned back against the soft pillow of the biobed. For once in her life, she didn't mind being in a sickbay.

Even though he was only hours old, as she gazed down at him, Kathryn could see some recognizable traits.

She sighed.

He had Janeway ears, but _everything_ else, _every_ last bit of his beautiful little body was from Tom. His eyes, when they were open, were a stormy dark blue as most light skinned humans. But Kathryn had little doubt they would lighten to a bright cerulean. The shape of his eyes, the arch of his eyebrows, even his cheekbones. Everything about him screamed out, "I'm Tom Paris' son."

Well, she had already decided her fate and her son's. They had each other and that would be enough. It would have to be.

She closed her eyes and started to drift to sleep. This baby needed a name.

 **TBC**

Author's Note: None. Except that I'm sorry this is taking so long. I'll try to do better.


	12. Chapter 12

**Souvenir**

 **Endgame Redux**

 _ **A Star Trek: Voyager fanfiction**_

 **by**

 **CanonAntithesis**

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

 **Chapter 12**

"You have everything?" His voice was flat, emotionless. He'd already screamed out his frustration when the mediator's ruling was announced.

B'Elanna looked around at the stacks of boxes filling the foyer of the Paris house.

"Yeah, I think I've got everything. The movers will here within the hour to transport the boxes to my shuttle." She was looking everywhere except at him.

Tom nodded. "Miral's just waking up." He glanced at the pallet on the living room floor where his daughter was just starting to stir. "She's usually in a really good mood when she wakes up. I'll just change her…"

"I'll do it," B'Elanna interrupted. "We need to get going. No need to put this off." Then, her voice softened. "You want to say goodbye?"

His eyes welled up and he turned away from her, embarrassed at his reaction. "I already did. We had a father-daughter talk before she went down for her nap."

She started to step closer to him, but stopped. "Six months isn't such a long time, right?"

"It's her whole lifetime, B'Elanna. She won't even remember me in six months."

"She doesn't remember me right now, but she'll adapt. Babies are very adaptable." When had she started sounding like a Drone?

She walked over to Miral's pallet and Tom looked away, staring out the window and seeing absolutely nothing. He could hear her talking to the baby in soft tones, efficiently changing her diaper and getting her ready to go.

Joint Physical Custody.

Tom supposed he should be grateful. Honestly, he thought the Bolian was going to give B'Elanna full custody. Instead Miral would split her time with each of her parents: six month with Tom, six months with B'Elanna.

His mother had been so upset at this news that his sister, Kathleen, had to physically remove her from the house before B'Elanna arrived. Of course, Julia blamed him. He hadn't fought hard enough. He should have said more about why B'Elanna wasn't a fit mother. And what was B'Elanna talking about when she had alluded to another woman? Damn! Everything was falling apart.

"I'm ready."

Tom turned to see B'Elanna standing with Miral on her hip as if she'd never been separated from her child. Miral was happily chewing on her own fingers. She really was such a good baby. Shocking, really, when you considered who her parents were.

"Yeah. Comm me when you get to Q'onoS, okay?"

"Sure. Look, Tom. You may not believe this, but I love Miral as much as you do. I'll take good care of her."

"I know. I just wish… Hell, I don't know what I wish." Damn, he was starting to choke up again. "Just go, okay?"

 **####**

Kathryn tried to open her eyes, but they felt like they were glued shut. Instead, she decided to snuggle into the warm, clean sheets and go back to sleep. When she tried to move, she quickly realized that everything hurt, absolutely everything. She had never felt so bone-weary in her entire life. Being assimilated by the Borg hadn't been this exhausting.

A deep male baritone drew her out of sleep and she realized his soft voice is what had awakened her in the first place. Opening her eyes, she saw the broad back of Admiral Paris leaning over her son's bassinet, standing next to her biobed.

"Hi there, little man. Remember, me? You know, I think I need to offer my apologies to Captain Chakotay. Don't I? You don't look a thing like him." He brushed his hand into the baby's palm and the newborn automatically tightened his tiny hand around the calloused pad of his finger. The admiral continued to whisper baby talk to her son in low tones.

 _Poor Chakotay. Why does everyone think I've been sleeping with him. Have they not met Seven of Nine?_

"Good morning, Admiral."

"Katie. He's beautiful," the admiral said as he straightened up to his full height.

"Thank you, sir … for everything."

"I've never been so scared in my entire life." His voice was light, but underneath she could see he was telling the absolute truth.

"Neither have I," she confessed. "We're quite a pair, aren't we, sir?"

"Do you mind?" Paris motioned to the baby.

She sat up a little straighter. "Of course not."

He gently lifted the baby up and cradled him in his arms like an old pro. He walked over to Kathryn's bed as he gazed down at this precious bundle. The baby locked eyes with the admiral as if he was studying the old man.

"Have you thought of a name?"

Kathryn nodded. "I have, Admiral. I'd like you to meet Owen Edward Janeway." She directed the name at the baby, but slanted a sideways glance at Admiral Paris. She had thought long and hard over a name for her son. In the end it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to honor two of the most important men in her life. And if they also happened to be his grandfathers, then so much the better.

"Oh, Kathryn. I'm honored. Really. This is … wonderful." He was beaming with pride. "Owen… Hi there, little Owen."

"Admiral, what happened on the space station… with the meeting?"

"What was that?" He was so absorbed in staring at his namesake that he hadn't heard her at first. "Oh, the attack. It was Orion smugglers, wasn't it, little Owen?" He was answering Kathryn, but was directing it to the baby. Little Owen, for his part, was completely engrossed in watching the older man. "They were trying to disrupt the proceedings to hold on to their lucrative mizinite mines."

"So what happens now?"

"Starfleet is redirecting its resources to protect the area. Two Constitution class starships will begin patrolling the system. Also, the Volan system is being fast tracked into the Federation. It should happen within the next few months."

"That's wonderful. I guess I wasn't needed after all. The negotiations went on without us."

"On the contrary, when news of this little guy's birth reached the committee, they completely changed their stance. Everyone loves new life, even that Blakely woman. This little guy has already negotiated an entire system's entry into the Federation and he's only one day old.

When are they releasing you?"

"As soon as Phoebe gets here. I don't think she'll ever forgive me for having him without her."

"Nonsense. Just think if she had delivered him, then his name would be Phoebe Edward Janeway and that's just silly, isn't it, Owen?"

Kathryn smiled to herself a little sadly. _What a mess you've gotten yourself into, Kathryn._

 **####**

Owen Paris left for Earth via shuttlecraft soon after leaving Kathryn in sickbay. A private shuttle was one of the little perks of being an admiral. He was true to his word and as soon as he arrived at home, he immediately went to find Julia to tell her how much he loved him.

"Oh, Julia," Owen exclaimed as he paced back and forth across the bedroom floor. "You wouldn't believe how adorable Kathryn's son is. He's the prettiest baby I've ever seen."

"That's what you said when Tom was born, remember?" Her smile was sad, clouded in memories of the intervening years.

Owen stopped pacing and studied his wife.

"Yes, you're right. You know… little Owen reminds me a lot of Tom. I couldn't place it before, but now…"

Julia, whose mind was always three steps ahead of her husband's, started connecting some dots and she didn't like the picture they were forming.

She remembered B'Elanna saying something about a mysterious "her" and Tom's blatant refusal to explain it.

Kathryn Janeway unexpectedly resigned her commission and disappeared to the other side of the quadrant.

And now, her newborn son, born less than nine months since their return from the Delta Quadrant, reminded Owen of Tom when he was that age.

No, she didn't like how things were adding up at all. Julia decided that she wasn't going to share any of this information … with anyone. Tom needed to focus on Miral. She was with B'Elanna now, but six months would fly by and if Tom decided that Janeway and her son were shiny new toys that needed his attention, they would lose Miral forever. She couldn't let happen.

"All newborns look alike. In a few months, he'll completely change and start looking like himself."

"Oh, that makes sense, I suppose." Owen's eyes drifted back to the picture he took of baby Owen in sickbay with Kathryn, her eyes tired, but shining with pride. He smiled and swiped to the next one on the data PADD.

"Are those the pictures you took of the baby?"

"Yes, and Katie. I was worried about her when she disappeared, but I think getting away from Starfleet will help her. I know it will help her boy."

Ignoring his comment about Starfleet and its thinly veiled reference to Tom's childhood, she pressed on. "May I see them?"

He handed the PADD over and then looked around the room as if a thought suddenly occurred to him.

"Where's Tom? Has he taken Miral out? It's so quiet in here."

He and Tom hadn't left things in the best position before he departed for the Volan system. The birth of Kathryn's son had given Owen a new outlook on life and he thought he'd like to start by making amends with Tom.

"Tom's not here. He left three days ago and I haven't bothered to try and find him. He doesn't want to be found."

"What do you mean? What's happened?"

"Everything's happened? It's all gone to shit."

Shocked at his wife's uncharacteristically crude language, Owen sank down onto their bed. "Talk to me, Jullia. What's going on?"

"The Federation family mediator ruled that Miral should be shared jointly between Tom and B'Elanna and since she is six months old, that insane judge decided that it was B'Elanna turn. She took the baby four days ago. Your son left the next day."

"That's horrible. Where did you go?"

"I suspect he's off licking his wounds. Let him be, Owen. If anyone deserved to feel some self-pity right now, it's Tom."

 **####**

The next month was a whirlwind for the Janeway household. Gretchen came as soon as she could and with Admiral Paris' connections, it only took her five days to get there instead of the interminably long trip Phoebe and Kathryn had taken a few months earlier.

Phoebe stumbled blindly into the kitchen with her eyes half open.

"Spirits, I think I'm going to have to start drinking coffee."

She stopped to get her bearings and leaned into the counter, blinking rapidly. Spotting her trusty teapot, she started toward it and stepped on something wet … and cold.

"Ugh. Kathryn! She's done it again!"

The backdoor opened and Gretchen asked as she walked into the kitchen, "What's all the racket? You're going to wake up the baby."

"Not to worry, Mom. The sun is up; that baby will sleep all morning. He doesn't understand how to sleep at night, but he's got daytime down pat. On the other hand, I'm not getting any sleep and I have to go to work. And..." A small ball of red fur flashed through the still open door and ran down the hall toward the bedrooms. "...what kind of idiot gives a puppy as a baby gift?" She held up her dripping foot and tried to wipe it off with a towel. "She's peed on the floor … again."

"Oh, goodness. I thought I'd gotten her out in time this morning. Let me help you clean up the floor, dear."

"It's okay, Mama. I'm just on edge because I'm sleep deprived. You know I fell asleep at my potter's wheel yesterday. Fell face first into the wet clay."

"Is that why your complexion looks so good?" quipped Kathryn as she entered the kitchen with Owen in her arms. "I hear mud masks do wonders for middle-aged skin."

"Speak for yourself."

Gretchen's wrinkled face broke into a huge smile as she reached for her grandson.

"How's my little Owen?" she crooned in a high-pitched falsetto as she sank into a chair. "I didn't hear him at all last night, Kathryn. Did he sleep through the night?"

"Ugh," Phoebe's head hit the counter with a thud. "Mother, you must be deaf. He must have screamed for two hours."

"It's colic. You had it too, Phoebe. Kathryn, on the other hand, was an angel."

The puppy came barreling back into the kitchen, all wagging tail and tongue. She ran straight to Phoebe and started tugging on the pee-soaked towel that Phoebe was using to clean the floor. After half-heartedly trying to retrieve the towel, she gave up and threw both hands in the air.

"How about this as a compromise? We keep the screaming baby and send the dog back to Mark. I still say he's an idiot for giving you that mongrel."

Kathryn, replicated cup of decaf coffee in hand, joined her mother at the dinette table. "She's not a mongrel, Phoebe. She's a purebred Irish Setter. Plus, she's Mollie's great granddaughter. And she's just a puppy, Pheebs. Give her a break."

The puppy, Zoe, meekly crept up to Phoebe, her head low, as if she understood that she was the subject of the current discussion. Despite her constant vocal beratement of the puppy, Zoe seemed to prefer Phoebe. In fact Phoebe was the one who gave her her name.

 _She's as far from an Alpha dog as possible, so we should call her Zoe._

Looking down at the small dog, Phoebe's heart thawed … a bit.

"How about this as a compromise?" Phoebe offered while scratching Zoe behind her ear. "I'll potty train the dog and then that absolves me from helping when it's Owen's turn."

"Deal!" Gretchen and Kathryn said simultaneously.

####

Julia pulled open the old-fashioned hinged door and walked into an anachronistically decorated bar. She immediately regretted being here as her eyes started stinging from the smoke which hung low in the room.

The bar had wide-planked real wood floors, scuffed and scarred by hundreds of years of abuse. Above her hung old-fashioned wagon-wheel chandeliers which did little to illuminate the room. Huge wooden beams ran the length of the room, adding to the ambiance of decay.

She noticed men against the far wall gathered around a pool table, each one with cigarettes dangling from their lips as they watched the shooter lean over the table, lining up his shot. She didn't realize anyone in this entire galaxy still used that carcinogen producing vice. Or pool tables, for that matter.

She made her way to the long bar, avoiding the wandering hand of a drunk sitting at one of the tables and a woman carrying a tray of beer in the direction of the pool table. The bartop, at least, looked clean.

"I'm looking for a man."

"Aren't we all, ma chérie?" Her French accent was thick and lyrical.

A tall, garishly made-up woman replied to Julia's ill-phrased sentence. Her thick blonde hair was arranged artfully atop her head with long ringlets trying in a vain to soften the worn features of her face. She was at least as old as Julia, but the Paris matriarch would never be caught in public wearing a garment which exposed so much cleavage. The woman was practically falling out of her dress.

"No," Julia corrected herself, her voice flustered. "You don't understand. I'm looking for this man." She held out a PADD with a picture of Tom taken when he had just returned from the Delta Quadrant. He was smiling broadly and looked so happy. She doubted he had looked like that in quite some time. "His name is Tom Paris."

"Ahhh, I'm not sure. We have many patrons. I could ask around. Would you like something to drink while you wait?"

Julia ordered a glass of white wine which tasted surprisingly good while the woman, who introduced herself as Sandrine, took Julia's proffered PADD and walked out into the bar.

Julia took another small sip of wine and nearly fell off the barstool when a hand snaked itself around her waist. A dark, swarthy alien man appeared beside her.

"Good evening, my dear. You look like you could use some companionship, oui?"

####

Sandrine glanced back at the bar and saw that that useless gigolo was harassing the woman. She should really ban that leech from her bar. She sighed. At least he was providing her a needed distraction.

She approached a booth in the darkest corner of the bar and slid onto the bench across from a slumped figure.

"Monsieur Thomas, wake up." She nudged him, none too gently, until he lifted his head and tried to focus his blood-shot eyes on the proprietress.

The poor boy...

She continued to think of him as a boy even though he was in his mid-thirties. She had first met him when he was a fresh-faced Academy Cadet almost twenty years ago. Time had not been kind to either of them, it seemed.

He showed up at her bar almost six months ago and never left. She broke every rule she had ever followed and allowed him to sleep in her backroom in exchange for doing odd jobs around the place. These mostly consisted of cleaning up at the end of the night, which mostly consisted of Tom gathering up the half-empty glasses and downing them himself while he haphazardly wiped out the tables.

"Wuahhh?"

"Someone's here looking for you." She motioned with her chin toward the bar, but she doubted that he noticed. "Look, Thomas, I know you're attracted to older women, but seriously, mon cher, she's old enough to be your mother."

"I _am_ his mother." The older woman stood rigidly next the booth.

Neither of them had seen her approach. Sandrine really was going to kick out that useless gigolo. He couldn't even provide a decent distraction.

"Oh. Then, I guess I'll leave you to it," the French woman replied.

Sandrine made a hasty departure as Julia took her place on the bench.

####

"Mom?"

Tom slowly lifted his head and tried to focus on his mother, but she was just a fuzzy blur. Then he felt a sharp pinch on his neck and the familiar hiss of a hypospray. His vision cleared instantly, but not so for his headache.

"That was a detox spray. You should be able to travel in a few minutes." Julia still stood next to the booth. He didn't have to look at her to feel her disapproval. It was emanating off her in waves.

His mind finally cleared enough to ask a coherent question. "Is it time?"

"Yes. Miral comes home in two weeks and you need to sober up. I'm not going to let your abhorrent lifestyle cost me my granddaughter. Now, let's go."

 **TBC**

Author's Note.

I'm so sorry this is taking so long, but life has just unexpectedly started happening. No worries, I will finish this story. In fact, as I keep telling my beta, I haven't even gotten to the actual plot.


End file.
